Yesterday I woke up in a perfect mood. Not too early – but not too late either. No hangover. I could feel that I was getting hungry – but not the kind of hunger that puts me in a bad mood if I don’t get fed with what I crave right away. (I know, living with me must feel like living with a24/7 – and NO mum, Delphine, Nathalie & Francoise – I am not pregnant)*. So far so good. The weather was OK (i.e. not raining, not freezing, and sometimes there was a little bit of sun even).
And Florent and I had our entire day planned out: brunch with papers at Get Fresh, and dinner with Florent, his cousin & uncle and I (again, Florent’s extensive family) at Little Giant at 7. What we had planned in between didn’t really matter to me, as long as brunch & dinner were secured.
And it all started, really really well. Here we are at Get Fresh. I already mentioned Get Fresh as one of the mandatory stops when Fabrice is in town. And again, I was not disappointed – no no no. We had this perfect table – not outside because it was still a bit chilly for us – but next to the doors to the terrace so that we could pretend to be outside.
It took me a while to get used to brunch: in France, we don’t do brunch – we do breakfast and then lunch with real dishes (although apparently brunch is getting real trendy in France these days, so I am lying a little here). Quite frankly I did not understand what to make of this meal when, no matter which restaurant you would go to, you would get almost the same dishes all the time (that is: Egg Benedict, Pancakes, French Toast, Eggs, sausages & potatoes). But that was until I moved to New York and discovered perfect brunches. And then I understood: brunch is not about getting all original and fancy. Brunch is about cooking traditional meals to perfection – with the best products you could find. You could tell me that any meal should be just about that….Yeah, agreed, sort of. But with brunch, the selection of dishes available is not extensive: it’s the week-end, one is very probably hangover from the night before, or at least tired from the week. So let’s bring one some comfort food in its best form. And guess what – that is exactly what Get Fresh does. First: the bread basket. Comes with vanilla butter, orange marmalade & strawberry marmalade (which they make themselves, of course). Delicious cheddar & rosemary scone, marvelous warm pear muffin and, my favorite: the BRIOCHE. Boy they know how to make brioche there. And I am a big fan of brioche. The only thing I wished was that they didn’t toast it – it’s even better when it’s warm and tender. Baguette was ok (but I won’t go there – I gave up on finding fresh and crispy baguette elsewhere than in France – I am snob this way).
Then came the egg sandwich. A delish. The stars there were clearly the bun and the egg. Again, the bun (brioche – again, they make their own) was perfect: sweet but not so much as it would overpower the other ingredients. It might seem odd to list the egg as the star there – but believe me, it was. And for two reasons:
- It tasted like an egg. What? You don’t understand? Well, try to remember the taste of the last egg you ate. You don’t remember? Well, I guess that’s normal, because egg don’t taste like anything these days. I hate to play the “it was so much better before” card, but it’s true. And this egg TASTED like egg, and for this, Get Fresh, I am eternally grateful.
- And – it was cooked to perfection: it was poached, the white was white (and not transparent) as it should be – and the yellow was runny – as it should be.
Florent seems to want to loose weight these days (or he is pretending to want to loose weight to have ME loose weight – I haven’t quite yet figured this one out, despite careful interrogation and scrutiny). So we ordered granola. And it was good too, I must say.
So, like I said, a perfect brunch, to start a perfect day. $40 was our total (with tips) – service was OK (I must say that I still get the feeling that the waiters are all new there and quite don’t know what they are doing – although they were all helpful and trying hard). I was content, and even more looking forward to Little Giant – as the idea of my next post was taking shape in my mind.*I am the youngest of 4 in the family – and also the only one without kids. And thing is, when you turn 30, the old excuse of “I am too young, way too young” turns out to be a little old. So one has to find other excuses. The “I don’t have a job and we wouldn’t have enough money to even CONSIDER getting pregnant – especially in New York city” has worked for me so far. Also it would help if my friends stopped getting pregnant all the time – and if my sisters started having babies again.