I’ve discussed my reservations about brunch before, but that was before I experienced Public. Now, I’m a changed girl. Brunch rocks my world.
This shift has been a long time coming. Although I love having a simple meal right after waking up, I enjoy sitting down, talking, eating and taking my sweet time even more. I love how brunch in New York is usually an event. There’s the long (or not so long) wait for a table involved. There’s the scene and the people watching. The people who go to brunch in New York are so interesting. They aren’t your typical breakfast-out folks who are happy with a mediocre short stack of pancakes and a melting pool of butter on top. These people live lives, go places and do things and want the best food at the coolest meal with an interesting mimosa to sip on.
Brunchers are my kind of people. We want to sit for an hour or so, chatting and letting our annoying tendency to process everything verbally spill forth. While I’ve labelled myself as shy for a long time, the truth is that I like to talk. I like it a lot. If I’m in the right mood I can go on and on and on and on … I’m in the right mood a lot more these days. I just can’t keep my mouth shut, I want to share my feelings. What better time to do so than over a meal? At the end of the week? Brunch is church for New Yorkers.
My parents and I brunched at Public to celebrate the end of my awesome internship. Originally, it was supposed to be a celebration that would, in part, be about me eating at my first michelin star restaurant (I know, I know, that’s hopelessly tacky), except, my mother and I lunched at The Spotted Pig a couple weeks previously. I guess the new milestone was ‘Emilia is a brunch girl.’
I looked over the menu a couple of days before heading and had a vague idea that I would get the turkish eggs, but I wasn’t completely sure. It all looked so interesting. Who knew, I might even have had a personality transplant and desired a sweet breakfast. Those coconut pancakes looked mighty darn good.
I ordered the Turkish eggs. Two poached eggs in greek yogurt with turkish chili butter and sourdough bread on the side for dipping. Two and three quarters of my favorite foods combined. I love greek yogurt. I love poached eggs. I love butter, sort of spice-y foods and bread. It was great. Certainly a heavy meal, but brunch is allowed to fill you up until dinner time.
My dad got the venison burger with cassava chips. The cassava chips were pretty awesome, as were the dipping sauces that accompanied them (my favorite was the horseradish). Apparently the burger was top notch as well. My mother had the fry up, which was good although she didn’t quite enjoy the toasted sourdough bread on the side. We all split a quinoa hash brown and were split about our feelings towards the fried little patty. I adored it, my dad liked it and my mother didn’t. But seriously, I need to figure out how to make something like that at home.
Brunch can just be another meal or it can be lovely. Brunch can be a dull routine, or it can be a celebration, a way to mark the end of a glorious week and the beginning of another one that promises to be even more divine. My future friends in my post-university world are avid brunchers, I’m sure of it. Sure, we might not go to michelin starred restaurants every week, some Sundays (because brunch is a Sunday affair) we might eat a places that downright stink (Penelope, I’m talking to you), but we’ll always have fun. It will be an experience a time to verbally process and reflect on how our lives are going and the good things on the horizon.
I can’t wait.
How do you take your Sunday breakfast? Is it brunch, a family meal or a quick bite on your way somewhere?