I don’t do brunch, or not if I can help it. Does that make me a traitor, or simply a curmudgeon?
It’s not breakfast, it’s not lunch — it’s a misbegotten relic. What’s to like? Another run-of-the-mill Bloody Mary or all-you-can-drink mimosa? More leaden eggs Benedict? Factory French toast? A guilt-free egg white frittata? Really?
The sad part is that most restaurants think they must supply these same dreary goods because they believe customers expect them. Perhaps they do, and perhaps it’s not the end of the world, either. Some restaurants with adventurous chefs are able to steer around the typical menu, but even they may be constrained by a need to supply something at least remotely brunch-like, or they risk losing business.
I understand the appeal even if I don’t feel the attraction. Brunch fulfills social obligations in a reasonable time frame. Meet for brunch (not too early), wait outside chatting for an hour, then settle in to a comfy old blanket of a meal, ask for the check and bid your companions goodbye.
Still, wouldn’t you rather have lunch?