NYC is a brunch-obsessed city, a fact that has become exceedingly clear during my mere three weeks of residence in SoHo. The lines that spill out of popular brunch restaurants are sometimes shocking. I'm not saying I'm immune - earlier this summer my friend Sally and I waited for a table at Prune for an hour and a half - but sometimes the frenzy is too much for me. Sometimes I just don't want a bitchy Brooklynite to tell me I have to wait until 2pm for a meal that is supposed to be half breakfast! In a strong anti-brunch effort, my friend Martha and I decided to cook brunch at home at my apartment this past Saturday morning. We mixed up Virginia cider mimosas, kept the coffee flowing and cooked up some cinnamon apples, bacon, fluffy pancakes and Mediterranean scrambled eggs. True to form, our meal extended on well past 3pm, always a mark of a brunch well done.
[giant jonathan adler teacup mugs - perfect for drinking obscene amounts of coffee]
[pink lady apples sauteed with butter, cinnamon and honey]
[for the fluffiest pancakes ever substitute any liquid with equal parts club soda - a trick martha learned from brunch at the gramercy park hotel]