We’ve talked before about my fantasy of brunch. It sits in the same bit of my head as dreamy pictures of idyllic small towns do. Sure, they are great to aspire to and dream about, but the reality always manifests itself as a hollow in comparison.
In a change of spirit, I’ve decided not to be deterred. My dream brunch quest shall continue on. Last Saturday evening, as I was racking through my brain to figure out which friends might a) be up for brunch and b) live close by and be up for brunch, I was left with a single name and number. Perfect. I knew he’d be eager to go wherever I wanted to—I’m the self-proclaimed foodie of my friendship circles, both internationally and domestically. We decided to meet up at 10:45 and brave the heat.
We went to Milk Bar. No, we weren’t flying to London. Waiting on Heathrow immigration is never an appetizing thought on an early Sunday morning and I’m more than content to leave behind the endless English drizzle for a bit. We were going to the Australian cafe/restaurant in Brooklyn. It sounded perfect: low-key, hip and with good coffee.
We walked and talked, lazily making our way to a lazy meal. It felt slow and the city felt blissfully empty, exactly how my fantasy of brunch always plays out. When we finally arrived, we spent a few moments standing in the doorway trying to suss out how the cafe worked, before being sat down and handed menus. My friend, who is quite well-versed in the universe of graphic design, commented on the attractive menu. He’s right. It was simple, clean and unfussy. Much like the food.
The menu was pretty traditional and, from what I imagine, quite Australian. For breakfast (they also serve lunch), the options were mostly variations of poached eggs on sourdough toast, though there were some fancier, granola-esque choices. Every egg choice could be ordered either full or half (half being one egg on one piece of toast and full being two of each). You could also add avocado for an extra $2.
I ordered a poached egg on sourdough, no avocado. My friend had a poached egg on sourdough with cheese, ham and tomato, no avocado. And then we realized the planets had aligned. We both hate avocado! Why does everybody love it? Why were there all these plates coming out piled high with the green stuff? I’ll never understand.
I also, of course, got a cappuccino (don’t worry, they have a flat white as well) that came out first with a little smattering of coco powder on top. Though not enough. The coffee was fine. It was nice to have it with my meal, but it wasn’t the best, veering that touch too-far into latte land. I might order a macchiato next time. Because a next time, there most certainly will be.
My breakfast, a simple poached egg on toast, was marvelous. The egg was cooked perfectly, the toast perfectly crunchy and toasted. There were even some chives scattered on top. I was in heaven. How could such a simple meal be so good? I’m not sure. But it was.
And so, after sitting for the perfect amount of lazy time, we left, walked out into the heat and continued on. The perfect lazy brunch as the ideal start to a simple, restful Sunday.
Yes, I think brunch and I can be friends after all.
Do you enjoy going out to brunch? What’s your favorite brunch meal?