Wildflower Cafe inspires a level of patience I didn’t know I had. I tell everyone I can, every chance I get, to make time for this place. I dream of the cheese grits. I grin broadly when they bring out bacon that is somehow both perfectly crisp and satisfyingly thick. The sausage crumble waffles say, ‘McGriddles are for toddlers; you deserve this.’
I love this place so much it influenced my wedding day. Let me tell you the story.
Wildflower’s story runs parallel to our romance. In 2021, as I was hanging art on the walls of my apartment in Florence Park, Wildflower posted pictures of the art they hung on their walls: framed paintings, lush wallpaper, bright colors. I was intrigued.
My boyfriend—whose apartment lay just on the other side of Wildflower from me—and I decided to visit one morning, excited for a new breakfast date choice. Soon, it was the breakfast date choice. A year later, we rented a house together, this one a 5-minute walk from Tracy Park to Wildflower. On Saturday mornings, our kids hurried to get us on the waitlist so they could visit Buck Atom’s Cosmic Curios and Decopolis, groaning when the wait time was too short to walk along Route 66.
A year after that, he and I sat in a booth, talking about the wedding date we had just chosen; there was now a ring on my finger. The cute guy who gave it to me admired the golden curtains over Wildflower’s windows, and wondered aloud if he could find a yellow suit. We joked about having our reception catered by Wildflower. Our eyes widened, the two of us immediately landing on a new plan: we’d have a morning wedding, followed by Wildflower brunch with our families.
On May 25, 2024, we woke up hungry. The conversation over our quick oatmeal before I got my hair done revolved mainly around what we would order. It was a big choice! We walked into Magic City Books, our venue, ready to get married, but mostly ready to wrap it up.
There was brunch to attend.
Some couples feed each other cake. My newly minted husband and I fed each other cheese grits. It was the only morning where there was no wait (turns out that when you say “I want to have brunch after my wedding,” they’ll save you a table). The cheese grits were in fine form. My snickerdoodle waffle sang. My father’s eyes twinkled over the biscuits and gravy.
“We understand now,” our moms said. New converts to the Holy Faith of Wildflower Brunch.
Eating at Wildflower feels like home. It feels like a safe place. Anyone who has not given it a shot will feel that way as soon as they settle in. Even if it takes an hour.
I’m not worried about the wait. Mary Beth Babcock let me in on a little secret that she finally released publicly: she is moving Buck’s Vintage to a building across the street, with other vendors filling in the building around it. Likely there will be even more traffic around the building when that happens.
So go ahead, Tulsa. Fill up the Wildflower Cafe waiting list. Stretch that wait out even longer. My husband and I have shopping to do.
