M. Henry is one of those places with a fair number of mentions but no thread of its own; this perhaps comes closest, so I'll toss it in here.
I've hesitated going there for weekend breakfast because of the Bongo Room-like wait, although I did grab some
brioche here once, but today we were up early enough and the rain looked discouraging enough that I figured we could sail in right after 8, and so we did, entering a nearly empty restaurant. By the time our food came, it was packed-- which fact will play a part later on in this saga.
Much like Over Easy (whose proprietor previously worked at M. Henry), the menu is a mix of over-the-top breakfast sweet things using lots of fresh fruit and creamy stuff, and Mexican or Italian-tinged savory stuff. Short answer, I found the sweets much, much better than the savory stuff. The vanilla bread pudding with fresh fruit and candied apples is sheer indulgence:

and sour cherry pancakes with some kind of gooey fruit center were also quite good (and damned pretty):

A poblano-filled quiche was reasonably well made, but if you order it, you'd better like poblano. I mean really,
really like poblano.

None of which, however, prepared me for the train wreck that my dish would prove to be. Maybe I should have regarded the mixed messages on the menu in an Italian take on Southern breakfast as a warning. But I foolishly thought, polenta, grits, what the heck.

But this is just one of those dishes that keeps vamping in the hopes that something will make it all work, and it never did. An indifferent, vaguely Italianate chicken sausage, a baby food-like plomp of gooey grits (excuse me, polenta), some rather tough collard greens turned salty by pancetta wrongly placed where the sweet-savory mix of real bacon or ham needed to be, and two perfectly reasonable eggs. Oh, and the one thing that was on the plate that was really tasty, a tomato half with some blue cheese-crumbly stuff in it.
Worse yet, I'm not the guy who normally fixates on little details gone wrong, but there was more carelessness in this meal than I would have expected at this price-- signs that even when you enter the place empty, it gets so busy so fast on the weekends that balls start getting dropped. I might have liked my plate a little better if everything besides the eggs hadn't been lukewarm. I might have liked the eggs better if the needless pineapple garnish wasn't crowded in on top of one of them. The sour cherry pancake was fine, but I did notice that the underside of one of them was well past brown. And, well, let's just say that today at closing, they need to assign one of the line cooks to take a scrub pad, and some baking soda, and return the inside of my coffee cup and any others like it to white.
I'm not writing M. Henry off by any means, but to judge by what comments do exist on this board, it seems to be ranked near the very top of all brunch places in Chicago, and it certainly has the business on even a rainy Sunday to back it up. Unfortunately, my experience, as good as parts of it were, also clearly fell short in places.