Succotash’s Sumo: Is there such a thing as too much breakfast?

Succotash’s gut-busting Sumo breakfast challenge requires its own special plate – and a certain attentiveness to liability issues.

When someone orders it, server David Meyer says, “Everyone on staff will keep checking on them, mostly because we want them to win but also because of health reasons. We want to make sure they’re doing OK.”

If something goes wrong, there should at least be good documentation. Fellow diners, Meyer says, tend to take photos after they’ve heard the staff yell, “Sumo!” and seen the whopping plate arrive at a table.

The Sumo weighs in at 10 pounds, on a par with a house cat or a bowling ball.

Its a crazed Russian doll of a dish that puts eggs, bacon, roasted red peppers, onions, home fries, and cheddar cheese inside a giant pancake, topped with several generous ladles of sausage gravy.

Ten pounds, I am telling you.

If you finish the whole thing, your $20 meal is free and you get to write your name on the restaurant’s wall of fame. In the three years since Succotash moved to its 26th Street and Holmes location, hundreds of people have taken on the Sumo. Only 10 names are on the wall.

“I’ve seen little guys and 5-foot-3, 100-pound girls take the challenge and win it over big trucker guys,” Meyer says. And many have come close, so close. Recently, Meyer watched a man attempt to impress his young daughter by ordering the Sumo. The family man was down to the last bite, everyone in the restaurant cheering him on. Then, that last mouthful of pancake and gravy.

“His daughter was still very proud,” Meyer says.

No matter the challenger, mind over matter is key when eating such a comically large, parade-float-size breakfast. Meyer has witnessed every trick of the eating-contest trade, including soaking the pancake in water, as a competitive hot-dog eater would, or fasting a day in advance. But little prepares diners for the shock of seeing the Sumo show up in front of them.

“No one ever expects it to be as big as it is,” Meyer says. “Even the guys who are trying to show off in front of their buddies go, ‘Whoa.’ And the customers start laughing – like, ‘Someone is going to eat this? Really?'”

The scale of the dish might seem incomprehensible, but its origins make sense. Anyone who has tried Succotash’s eight-layer citrus cake, for example, or its Burrito of Love or its cotton-candy cappuccino knows that owner Beth Barden is all about the imaginative, cartoon-flavored flourish. And its Barden’s jovial spirit that infuses the Sumo, along with her menu’s tendency to put taste first and calories second.

“She wanted to have something kind of silly and fun – and a tad bit unrealistic,” Meyer says. Mission accomplished.

But don’t expect to try the novelty without agreeing to the challenge. I learned this the hard way when I visited Succotash on a busy Sunday morning. You are not allowed to share the Sumo. It is a serious challenge made for serious challengers – for good reason.

“It takes up a lot of space on our grill,” Meyer says. “We have a very small kitchen. When a Sumo is ordered, it basically stops production on all grill items – eggs, pancakes – for five to 10 minutes.”

After waiting 30 minutes for a table, I felt almost ready to face the Sumo (I had shown up so hungry that I ate the lint-covered mint in my coat pocket), but my first challenge attempt turned out to be relatively intangible. Was I willing to hold my fellow diners, some of whom were presumably as hungry as I was, hostage to my will to conquer? Slowing down a busy brunch shift at Succotash is not a responsibility I would shoulder lightly. It takes a lot of food to fill that special king-size plate, a lot of guts to clear it – and, for me, even more to haul off and ask for it.

To be continued.