A Brunchtastic Weekend
The other night, I was at a bar and scribbled on the wall in the ladies room was this - "Don't go to brunch. DO SOMETHING." This struck me as both funny and particularly aimed at me. I go to brunch as much as humanly possible. For example, not only did I go out to brunch on Saturday and Sunday of this past weekend, but I even arranged to meet my Mom for breakfast last Friday morning before work so we could consume some delicious brunch food without the weekend craziness. (As I type this, my stomach just actually audibly growled at the thought of the delicious blueberry waffles that my Mom and I shared).
But brunch in Manhattan on the weekends has entered a dark place. It consists of ridiculously long waits and obnoxious people, some of whom feel the need to continue the alcohol consumption of the night before by downing consecutive mimosas (as I recently discussed with Peter and Zach Fox, do these people never have anything to do all day other than to go home and nap? Or do they just have some freakish robot-like tolerance?) My solution to the Manhattan Weekend Brunch Problem has been this - whenever possible, I travel to Brooklyn for brunch. That way, I am both doing something AND eating brunch (take that bathroom wall scribbler!) On Saturday, my family drove to the Ditmas Park area for brunch (I dare say many Brooklyn-ites haven't even been there) and on Sunday, I Q-train'd it Prospect Heights. Escaping the city has it's benefits - less wait, cooler people (I didn't spot any upturned collars or people wearing sunglasses inside, for example), equally tasty brunch fare, and a fun neighborhood to explore afterwards.
Here's the thing, I literally cannot give up brunch. I am too fond of fluffy challah French toast, adorably poached eggs, Huevos anything, well done bacon, and that first sip of coffee, but at least I make the consumption of said food into an outing, a trip, an adventure if you will. If you're unconvinced that this constitutes an adventure, I'll elaborate as to why I think it does - there's the forcing yourself out of bed on a weekend in an hour that still ends with AM, the 'will it or won't it come' guessing game of the subway running on the weekends, the 'do I get a sweet or savory breakfast?' dilemma, the 'will I or won't I' suspense of a possible stomach ache from my coffee if I drink it before the food arrives, and finally, there's the new and exciting exploration of a neighborhood that I don't know as well with my startling lack of a sense of direction and propensity to stare at the cute young Brooklyn families with a mixed bag of jealousy and anxiety.
But brunch in Manhattan on the weekends has entered a dark place. It consists of ridiculously long waits and obnoxious people, some of whom feel the need to continue the alcohol consumption of the night before by downing consecutive mimosas (as I recently discussed with Peter and Zach Fox, do these people never have anything to do all day other than to go home and nap? Or do they just have some freakish robot-like tolerance?) My solution to the Manhattan Weekend Brunch Problem has been this - whenever possible, I travel to Brooklyn for brunch. That way, I am both doing something AND eating brunch (take that bathroom wall scribbler!) On Saturday, my family drove to the Ditmas Park area for brunch (I dare say many Brooklyn-ites haven't even been there) and on Sunday, I Q-train'd it Prospect Heights. Escaping the city has it's benefits - less wait, cooler people (I didn't spot any upturned collars or people wearing sunglasses inside, for example), equally tasty brunch fare, and a fun neighborhood to explore afterwards.
Here's the thing, I literally cannot give up brunch. I am too fond of fluffy challah French toast, adorably poached eggs, Huevos anything, well done bacon, and that first sip of coffee, but at least I make the consumption of said food into an outing, a trip, an adventure if you will. If you're unconvinced that this constitutes an adventure, I'll elaborate as to why I think it does - there's the forcing yourself out of bed on a weekend in an hour that still ends with AM, the 'will it or won't it come' guessing game of the subway running on the weekends, the 'do I get a sweet or savory breakfast?' dilemma, the 'will I or won't I' suspense of a possible stomach ache from my coffee if I drink it before the food arrives, and finally, there's the new and exciting exploration of a neighborhood that I don't know as well with my startling lack of a sense of direction and propensity to stare at the cute young Brooklyn families with a mixed bag of jealousy and anxiety.
posted by Susan Goldberg at 1:49 PM
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