Berkeley, November 8, 2009—
IT'S ALWAYS SEEMED to me a strange meal, brunch: too late in the day for breakfast; too early for supper; too breakfasty a menu for lunch. But we were in town; we'd been too distracted to think about where we were going to eat; it was Sunday and choices were limited; and we had a play to go to at three o'clock. So we would up eating brunch.And it was okay, in its breakfasty way. The menu had an Italian accent, since we were after all in an Italian restaurant. I had "Omelette salsiccia house-made sausage, mozzarella, peppers, spicy calibrias," as the typo-fraught menu has it: a three-egg omelet cooked in butter, not the olive oil I'd have preferred, enlivened with the peppers and sausage; and before it a…
…Fernet and soda
2 comments:
Brunch may not make much sense, but I've become an addict of the late lunch, which seems to please my tummy. Alas, I'm no longer allowed to eat late suppers, so when we get to Spain again, I don't know what we'll do.
Mealtimes are idiosyncratic around here. We tend to breakfast at eight, lunch at two or so. We have a pot of tea and some almonds at six, and then dine at seven or eight. Just before bed, at midnight, some fruit and, if I've been good, some chocolate. If I'm alone, I often skip lunch altogether.
Spain! I posted some photos from Spain on my Facebook page the other day, and that put me in the mood to go back!
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