This weekend, this particular friend came to town, and the two of us brunched all day long. For two days straight. I wouldn't even bother trying to name any of these other meals we had "dinner," "lunch" or "cocktails." When you're two girls in New York City, wandering around in a semi-drunk, semi-hungover state, stopping to intermittently chat, imbibe and nibble on whatever tickles your fancy, I call that brunching. Or European mimicry.
Saturday's Menu:
2 ice coffees
2 bloody marys
1 mimosa
granola, berries, yogurt
drunken baked beans, poached egg, bacon
side of bacon
side of hash browns
2 iced green teas
20-ounce passion fruit margarita
20-ounce pomegranate margarita
2 baskets of tortilla chips
bowl of homemade guacamole
1 fresh watermelon martini
1 glass of rose
platter of fruit, cheese and honey
skillet of mussels in white wine and garlic
4 glasses of sauvignon blanc
2 glasses of pinot grigio
Sunday's Menu (Note: We did scale back. At least on alcohol.)
1 ice coffee
2 cups of coffee
1 bloody mary
smoked salmon, creme fresh, capers, pumpernickel bread
rainbow trout, fried egg, dried mushrooms
1 cappuccino
1 americano
3 mini ice cream cones
desert platter (mini lemon cake, mini raspberry mousse and lemon ice cream)
1 scoop of vanilla ice cream
side of hot fudge
side of fries
(We went our separate ways at 5 p.m. I later had a chicken salad, two chocolate chip cookies and another scoop of vanilla ice cream.)
Although the sugar intake increased on Sunday (absence of booze = sugar cravings), look what we did pass up (but were still hypnotized by to take pictures of) between pit stops and hangover hazes:
Yes, this a Barbie cake. Fabulous.
Look at all that self discipline.
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