Brunch is a big deal in New York City. Everyone loves brunch: on any given Saturday or Sunday you’ll find girls in their twenties gossiping about last night’s escapades while wearing yesterday’s make-up, old men working their way through the weekend edition of the New York Times while a revolving door of friends stop by to say hello, and parents who come saddled with children and the seemingly ever-unfulfilled hope that they can relax and enjoy breakfast. The young crowd loves the all-you-can drink mimosa brunch, while the older crowd seems to congregate at the diner. I am a member of the kid-saddled group and usually find myself at the diner not because I always want to be there, but because it just seems easier with two kids in tow. But, every once in a while my husband and I decide we should take the train to the Cornelia Street Cafe in the West Village and dine with the young crowd, kids be damned.
And for some reason we always have a great time. Well, actually, it isn’t a mystery. The brunch there is excellent and we have a long enough subway ride to whisper threats of dire consequences for bad behavior and so end up having a great time.
I love their Prix fix brunch – you choose one bread (banana bread, blueberry muffin, rosemary focaccia, croissant), one main dish (farmer’s breakfast, huevos rancheros, eggs Benedict, omelet), coffee or tea, and a drink (sparkling wine, mimosa, Bloody Mary). The menu manages to satisfy every possible craving, while serving up a grown-up meal. I tend to order the farmer’s breakfast with cava and coffee (the Brazilian espresso roast from Porto Rico Importing, Co, I am told), and mix up the bread side. The farmer’s breakfast is brilliant – mixed greens, balsamic dressing, perfectly roasted potatoes and garlic topped with eggs of your choosing and mixed with heaps of crunchy, salty bacon.
It is somehow decadent and healthy at the same time. My favorite brunch in NYC.