Brunches I have Bested

Before we explore that magical realm between breakfast and lunch, I think a shout-out is in order. And that shout-out goes to Singapore. Not only does this country have a fascinating cuisine and culture, but they also have one resident who, at the very least, viewed this blog (perhaps even read some of it!) So thank you, Singapore. I hope to someday explore your culinary delights. And thanks also to the lone Singapore resident who decided to find out just how hungry I am. Please do stop by again sometime. And now, on to the food.

Submitted for your approval: The Berlin Brunch. A buffet extravaganza ranging from sausage and eggs to spicy middle eastern vegetables to deep fried....stuff. And the requisite bucket of chicken wings. Since real Berliners don't sleep on Saturday nights, I guess the only activity they're fit for on Sundays is an all day eating orgy. This is why Berlin is my kind of town.

In my arrogance I thought that after Berlin I had seen all that brunch has to offer. That, however, was before brunch at the Petersons', which I experienced earlier this month. First sign that I was entering a whole new Brunch realm? Brunch was served at 6pm. Brilliant! Do you realize I could have comfortably slept until 5pm and still made it over there in time for the candy-coated goodness? Had the promise of a Petersons' Brunch been on the horizon I certainly would have made it through the all-night David Bowie tribute last weekend.

The crux of the Peterson Brunch is surely their perfect balance of sugar and salt. You have your basics like bacon and scrambled eggs (and- oh yes!- the bacon was cooked to order. Was that a bit of drool that fell on my keyboard? No matter. On with the story.) This protein staple was contrasted with silver dollar pancake sandwiches. Deep fried silver dollar pancake sandwiches. Deep fried silver dollar Pancake sandwiches filled with nutella. Do you see how much trouble I'm in here?

And that's not even the extent of it. There was deep fried challah french toast with powdered sugar. And carmelized bananas. But really, the pinnacle of the brunch for me was the brown-sugar glazed spicy italian sausage. I'm not sure I have the words to describe it. Its as if some divine being came down and elevated ground meat to a level never before known to man, and perhaps never to be experienced again. And as if all this weren't enough, there were homemade chipwiches for dessert.

True, this was quite a bit of food. I did, in fact, suffer from a carb coma for most of the night (and had to get my arteries cleaned out immediately upon waking up the next day). But ultimately that was a good, even necessary thing, because it made me insensible to the pain of the Petersons' youngest child bashing me in the face with a Thomas the Tank Engine Train. Instead, I rode a blissful sugar-fat wave, all while watching the elder Peterson child give an impromptu dance recital. Life is good. Brunch with the Petersons makes it even better.