Brunch is an American invention. We love combining two great things or ideas and making it into one idea with a cutsy name:
- Breakfast + Lunch = Brunch
- Croissant + Donut = Cronut
- Lion + Tiger = Liger
- Labrador + Poodle = Labradoodle
- Quesadilla + Burrito = Quesarito
- Tomato + Tobacco = Tomacco
It pained me seeing advertising for Sunday Brunch in London and reading lists of the best brunch spots in Time Out magazine. You guys have the greatest Sunday meal in dining history, the Sunday Roast. Then, the traditional full British breakfast. It’s got beans. It’s amazing!
That’s why you need to seek out Crosstown Donuts in London. You see that picture of those lovely doughies — Raspberry Jam, Rocky Road, Green Tea Matcha, Tongan Vanilla Bean Glaze, Belgian Chocolate Truffle, Peanut Butter & Berry, Sea Salt Caramel & Banana Cream, Creme Brûlée . You need to be eating that, NOW. Yes, I ate every one of those flavors. I was there so many times that I filled a buy 6, get the 7th free card at the shop in Soho. It was near my yoga studio, so everybody wins.
You can sit for two hours in a crowded restaurant with 20 families with screaming kids or you can head to Regent’s Park with a bag of Crosstown Donuts.
If you are watching the HBO sports series, Hard Knocks, which follows the Houston Texans training camp, you’ll hear superstar J.J. Watt state that there’s nothing better than brunch. It’s one of those blanket statements that needs to be examined. I can name you 20 different things that are better than brunch on a Sunday morning … and keep your mind out of gutter, folks.
Brunch can be fine if you’re out with your parents or for a third or fourth date. The food itself is fine, Eggs Benedict being the gold standard.
The problem I have is the dopey crowd it attracts. It’s the brunchcore crowd. They listen to NPR, drive a Prius, spend $2000 on a stroller, their favorite band is the Decemberists, read David Eggers, wear J.Crew and call their kids by their whole name including middle names. Avoid it at most costs.