Posts Tagged ‘brunch’

Breathing Room.

January 10, 2012

After ten minutes sandwiched between all of London and her tourists in Camden Market, I realized that in at least one way, living in the Midwest is a luxury. Space. We spent an afternoon getting caught in the current of foot traffic, wandering the stalls without stopping to look closely at anything designed to attract our attention along the way. To stop would mean to be run over, or to lose a member of our party. We’d gone to Camden to meet up with Sarah, Ben’s childhood friend, and we’d brought Elen, our London hostess along with us. With only a cup of coffee as our nourishment for the day, we were starving. While the food stalls in the market were tempting, we let Sarah talk us into visiting her favorite nearby pizza place. (The crowds helped persuade us, as did the underlying fear that any food near a tourist site was likely to be crap.)

In what was to become a tradition in our London dining experience, our initial goal (in this case, pizza) was just out of reach. (This happened several times during the trip; we’d get to a bistro that a friend recommended and find that the kitchen had closed seconds prior to our arrival, or we’d arrive at our destination restaurant to learn that they could only seat us at their second location, thirty minutes away.) Camden Bar and Kitchen had changed menus and its beloved stone-baked pizzas weren’t available for brunch on Sundays. Our server—who did not approve of this very recent change in operations—tried to talk the kitchen into serving us pizzas, to no avail. Brunch it would be.

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Brunch Bonanza.

August 31, 2011

The Lower East Side’s Clinton Street Baking Co. isn’t exactly a well-kept secret. Lauded for its baked goods—the buttermilk biscuits are particularly renowned—and notoriously popular brunch, I’d recommended it to visiting friends who had weekday mornings free for leisurely breakfasts; they always reported back in the positive, but then, the lines are shorter Monday to Friday, and I’d always been too put off by the crazy weekend waits to give the place a shot myself.


A few weeks ago, though, some friends and I found ourselves with a Sunday at our disposal. One got there early and put our name on the list; the rest of us met her at the café across the street, settled in with our iced coffees and commenced with the waiting. As a reward for surviving the epic lines, we were served, as promised, “no-fuss-just-plain good food.”

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Brunch Bout.

March 15, 2011

This is a tale of two disparate midday meals.

In one corner: Southern comfort. In the other: Swedish sophistication.

Both were consumed with out-of-town guests. Both featured well-made food at reasonable price points. Which cuisine—to borrow a phrase—would reign supreme?

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Old Faithful.

February 7, 2011

Last weekend I went to an old favorite with one of my oldest friends. Nothing new to report—the food is still amazing, the service gracious, the dining room bustling—but please join me in lusting over the wares of Buttermilk Channel.

We started with the Star of the Sea bloody mary, made with celery-and-peppercorn-spiked vodka, and watched the bartender shuck the garnish just minutes before he dropped it on top. It tasted every bit as fresh and delicious as you would imagine.

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Flying High.

June 10, 2010

I wrapped up my recent trip to Cleveland with brunch and a ballgame (Indians vs. Reds). Thanks to the magic of grandparents, some friends were able to relieve themselves of the duties of parenthood and join up north for this portion of the trip.

I’d heard a few good things about Flying Fig, and when I realized that they had pork belly on their brunch menu, I knew, in an instant, that we’d be dining there. It was conveniently located across the street from Great Lakes and was within walking distance of our place. (I’m still amazed at how everything fell into place for this trip.)

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Pie for Breakfast.

April 26, 2010

I have a shameful, shameful confession to make.

Almost exactly one year ago to date, I went on record to proclaim my newfound love of homemade pizza; I even bragged about the acquisition of a peel and a stone, promising more experimentation in my near future. Would you believe that it wasn’t until a few weeks ago that I finally got around to my second-ever pizza-making attempt?

Ahem. Of course you would.

April’s been a travel-filled month at Casa IF-NY: Prior to my trip to the Philippines (yes, stories and pictures to come soon, we promise), the Carnivore spent a week in Trinidad, making up for our aborted Carnival excursion with a spring-break getaway. His early morning return to Brooklyn provided the perfect excuse for a welcome-back brunch à deux, and, more to the point for our purposes here, the perfect opportunity to try out a bookmarked recipe for breakfast pizza. Bacon, eggs, caramelized shallots, and crunchy, fresh-green garnishes? What’s not to love?

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A Very Vanderbilt Venture.

February 24, 2010

Is it too early in the week to start thinking about Sunday brunch?

I sure hope not; I’ve had the Vanderbilt‘s on the brain since my meal there last weekend.

Two weeks ago, my friend and I stopped into this newish restaurant (a collaboration between the chef/owner of Saul, a Brooklyn-restaurant pioneer, and the co-owner of Num Pang, one of my go-to sandwich spots) for an impromptu Monday-night meal; we sat at the bar, ordered a few small plates and glasses of wine, and promptly fell in love with both the gorgeous food and delicious space.

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Slappy Detour.

January 22, 2010

On my last day in Portland, Matt and I went out for our one and only brunch of the weekend. If that doesn’t indicate restraint, I don’t know what does.

Before I’d even bought my plane ticket, Matt was telling me about Slappy Cakes: He emailed the link to the menu, sent text messages every time he ate there, and basically did all of the advance publicity so I’d be primed and ready when I got to town. It’s a restaurant with a gimmick, and a good one, too: As the breakfast-oriented cousin of Korean barbecue or Japanese shabu-shabu, each tabletop has a built-in griddle for make-your-own pancakes.

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Long Live the Pig.

December 28, 2009

Jill: I can’t visit New York without going to brunch. In past visits, brunch is what happens around 5 p.m. following an evening of bar hopping and fuzzy memories. This time, though, we had bloody marys in hand with available light and without hangovers. Either we’re growing up, or my flight landed in the morning. In this case, it may be both.

Jill: Shortly after arriving in Bed-Stuy, we set off on foot to the General Greene, a restaurant that Maya and the Carnivore had visited once before.

Maya: One of the three Ws in play right from the get-go. On our prior visit, we were impressed with the drinks and underwhelmed by the sandwiches; the breakfast items all sounded great, though, so we’d been talking about giving it another shot. This seemed as good a time as any.

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Sunday Bloody Sunday.

October 12, 2009

Food (and drink) taste better when enjoyed with friends. With that in mind, I hosted a Sunday Bloody Sunday brunch potluck. The Sunday brunch potluck is an idea that was ingrained into my head in my late teens. While all this social media stuff is fun and all, nothing can replace real community. And, well, most real community happens around food. In the kitchen, in my case.

bloody3

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