Brunch Bunch

I love brunch. It's such a pretentious thing. It makes me feel like I am rich and important. It's really just a lazy breakfast, with pizazz!!! Living in New York, brunch is an event, a specialty, a verb. There are places you lunch, and then places you brunch. It's not only about the food you eat, but the place you go and the people you are with. It's so high society, so je ne sais quoix? (yes, brunch is pretentious enough for me to even speak french) I have only one pre New York brunch memory. When I was in Prince Edward Island doing Anne of Green Gables the musical, my roommates and I had a brunch. I think it was on a Friday. We decided to invite all of our friends over and cook all the food we had in the house. We would be leaving to go back home that weekend and didn't want to waste food. We had French Toast, hash browns, fruit salad, eggs, perogies, vegetables, salad; the list goes on and on. Plus it was a potluck, so our friends brought various concoctions of leftovers from their houses. I think the event lasted all day. It was great fun, however I do remember burning the hashbrowns. I don't mean a little bit, I'm talking call the Fire Department burning. Filled the kitchen with smoke, had to open all the windows and doors. Not the delicate brunch one might find at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel in New York City.

My partner in crime on this weekends brunch excursion was Rob. Our destination, Millridge Inn. It looked like something out of a Grimm's Fairytale. It was built in the 1600's or there abouts. Exposed beams, huge rooms, many additions to the original property. Also a small "village" filled with tiny Snow White houses, each peddling their "homemade" sweets, trinkets, and wares. (the cookies looked distinctly mass produced) Upon entering this Hansel and Grettle of a restaurant, we noticed one thing immediately, we were the only people under the age of 70. Guess that's what happens when you brunch before noon. Our waiter seated us and presented a small novel of a menu, along with their special seasonal Oktoberfest menu. $22 got you an appitizer, salad, main dish, dessert, plus 3 drinks. (I was beginning to see why the pension crowd frequented such an establishment) I decided upon the braised rabbit. I will take this moment to interject a huge pet peeve of mine. When the menu describes salad as "medley of mixed field greens" one should not expect iceberg lettuce, cucumber slice and tomato wedge to grace their plate. Since when did Iceberg lettuce become a "medley of mixed field greens?" Iceberg lettuce is barely green!!! (though fitting as I was having the rabbit) I also had to take pity on the poor bread girl unfortunately clad in royal blue milkmaid attire. I could tell from her expression that she really loved her job!!! The warm cinnamon bread which graced our table however, was heavenly. I wanted to ask for more, but was uncertain as to the emotional stability of our bread girl. Perhaps she had to perform selections from Sound of Music later?! My meal arrived. I don't know what I was expecting. Perhaps some dark sinewy looking cut of meat trussed with carrots, cooked in a dark rich broth. What I got looked like chicken. Tasted like chicken. I was pretty sure it was chicken. I guess our befuddled waiter screwed up the order. No matter it tasted fine. A second cut into the piece of meat revealed a rather large museum like spinal column. I have seen a chicken spine, this was not it. Guess I had the rabbit after all. The waiter came to check on us and ask the usual "how is everything?" I told him the bunny was delicious. Later, our plates were cleared and glassed refilled, for a second time. Finally dessert was served. I looked around. There I was in this storybook village, amidst a sea of grey hair and blue milkmaids eating my pumpkin pie at 12:30 in the afternoon.

Dear Diary, when did I get old?