Brunch: The Corky of Meals

I was first introduced to brunch culture while living in New York.  There, brunch is an institution.  Combing the streets and avenues, you find restaurants you wouldn't dream of going to for breakfast, lunch or dinner, but come Sunday morning, there's a 3-hour wait.  There are restaurants designed to be ideal for brunch.  They have the perfect late morning light, the balanced sweet-savory menu, coffee, mimosas, waiters who understand it was a late night, a late morning, let me bring you a cup of joe to ease you into the last day of the weekend.  Because tomorrow is Monday, I'm so sorry.  In New York, brunch plans are almost as important--and often more enjoyable--than Saturday night plans.  Brunch is one of the few weekly NYC institutions that requires and perpetuates leisure.  

Sadly, Detroit is missing a quality selection of brunch places on Sunday morning.  Detroit is missing many hallmarks of leisure, brunch being the least important by far.  There is, however, a critical mass of diners for greasy-spoon breakfasts, great lunch places, and a wonderful organic cafe/bakery down the street.  But, where can I get eggs benedict? I know I sound spoiled--not hugely snobby, but lightly sprinkled with snob pepper.  I'm okay with that.  I reserve my right to long for what is not in Detroit, even if it is because Detroit's population could not support a fancy brunch place.  But maybe it could.  I'm here.  I know at least 50 other people in Detroit who share my demographic and love of goat cheese omelets. (Maybe with some roasted asparagus, side of potatoes, wheat toast with raspberry jam.  Just a suggestion, a thought.)

But it's not just the food that's great about brunch.  It's the idea that an entire meal has been created for those of us who opt to sleep in on Sunday morning.  It's a meal for people who take it slow.  In New York, most brunch places begin serving at 9am and don't stop until 6pm.  It's not breakfast, lunch or dinner.  It's the three-square meals' lazy, slow and friendly little brother.  With a special menu.  I don't know the history of brunch, where or when is started, or by which enterprising culture.  Because to research something like brunch is similar to looking up "fun" on Wikipedia. It doesn't matter. 

Today is Sunday.  And while my morning was relaxing and slow as molasses, something was missing. That cling and clang of silverware, coffee cups and newspapers.  The din of weary weekenders, the brunch community gathered for their weekly ritual: leisure made manifest.  But, as I sipped coffee in my apartment this morning, I thought of my New York counterparts, brushed some snob pepper off my shoulder and shrugged and the thought of getting elbowed  in line, waiting an hour for overpriced eggs.