My brunch nemesis

Every server has one. That crazy regular who comes in during what's already the most heinous shift (brunch) and makes your life hell. Mine looks a bit like a homeless Susan Boyle. Or this:


Yes, that's the crazy cat lady from The Simpsons. I don't know if my brunch nemesis (henceforth referred to as my BN) is into cats, but you know what she is into? Reading a giant newspaper and then leaving it all over the floor for me to clean up when she leaves. And sometimes she doesn't even have the decency to leave the crossword.

The worst thing about my BN is her attitude. She always come in alone* (see note) and after being in her presence for 2 minutes, it's clear why. She's very defensive, as if you've already wronged her or might spit in her face at any moment. She likes to sit as far away from other people as possible and if the dining room is noisy and crowded, she takes her misery out on the staff. I mean, it's obviously our fault that she can't eat her brunch in complete silence.

But at least she's predictable. She always drinks a lot of coffee and wants it refilled even when it's three-quarters full and still steaming. And when she asks for the "refill" her expression screams WHYDIDIHAVETOASKYOUFORTHISYOUSHOULDHAVEKNOWNINEEDEDMORECOFFEE
She also uses a lot of cream and a lot of sugar, even by Boston "coffee regulah" standards. I usually fill the jumbo creamer we use on big tables for her. And I bring her about a dozen packets of sugar.

Her culinary tastes are simple -- fish and chips when it's on the menu (extra aioli. I just bring it now before she asks) and eggs benedict without ham when it's not. If it's an eggs benedict day, we have this conversation. Verbatim.

BN: (with great agitation) Um, I don't eat ham? Can I substitute avocado?

Me: Yes, but it's an extra dollar.

BN: (grimaces) Oh. I see. Never mind. Well, can I substitute french fries for home fries?

Me: The eggs benedict actually doesn't come with home fries, but you can order a side of fries if you like.

BN: (devastated and angry) Oh. Never mind.

We had a little kerfuffle once when I was flustered/busy and accidentally told BN she could substitute avocado for ham. Then the kitchen told me I had to charge her a $1 and in the chaos, I forgot to mention it and she flipped out when I gave her the check. But that's all water under the crazy bridge now and I'm always very careful to explain about the up-charge when she inevitably asks.

When BN decides it's time to leave, she needs to leave IMMEDIATELY and if it takes you more than a minute to bring her the check and run her credit card, you can bet that's coming out of the 12% tip she's planning on leaving.

But the most terrifying thing about BN is that once, I Googled her (yes, I know her name because sometimes she makes a reservation for one) and she apparently is a professor at, like, MIT. Now, when I'm not slinging overpriced eggs, I too have a college teaching job. (I like to say I wait tables to pay for my teaching habit). Is this what I have to look forward to if I continue to work in academia? Wearing an oversized knit hat and considering avocado a frivolous luxury?

*One time, she was joined at her table tucked in the farthest reaches of the restaurant by a man in denim overalls who looked equally disheveled/emotionally disturbed. He too ordered fish and chips. They barely spoke to each other and then paid and left separately. To this day, I have no idea what that was about.

Fancypants Hash

Before I could post about this, I needed to conduct a little research so that I could back up a seemingly offensive claim with actual data. The claim: corned beef hash traditionally/historically is eaten by middle-to-lower class people. Before you get all in my face about being classist, let me say that I was making this assumption based on the fact that you can get it at most corner stores for less than $3. And let's be real, the greasy canned variety just doesn't look like rich people food:


Sorry, but Warren Buffet is not eating that for breakfast. Don't get me wrong -- it tastes freakin' delicious, almost good enough to justify the intestinal distress that usually follows its consumption.

My hunch was correct -- according to Wikipedia, corned beef hash became popular during WWII when food was rationed and fresh, high quality meat was hard to come by. Corned beef hash was survival food, a good way to get some protein that would also fill you up. It's literally meat and potatoes, working folks' food.

Not anymore.


Now on brunch menus, there will almost always be some kind of fancy hash. Like the above pictured duck confit hash. At the restaurant where I work, we had braised lamb hash on the menu this past Sunday. Hash has gotten mighty big for its britches, if you ask me. It's come a long way from its unassuming beginnings:

This beef short rib hash is almost too pretty to eat:


Here's my main question: Why do we feel the need to dress up our hash? Are we ashamed to admit that something that looks (arguably) gross


tastes amazing?

I for one would like to return hash to its true roots. No more highfalutin hash! Hash for the 99%! #occupybrunch!

What brunch and Burger King have in common

More than any other restaurant meal, brunchers love to modify and customize their order. Instead of looking at a brunch menu and thinking, "Hmmm, what sounds good to me?" they look with an eye toward "what could I change about this dish to make it EXACTLY what I woke up in the mood for today?"

I work in the restaurant industry and I know this to be a fact. The modifications ("mods") on brunch tickets are OUT OF CONTROL. It's one thing to sub your home fries for french fries, or even a salad (though you know my thoughts on that travesty) -- it's another thing to ask if instead of mushrooms and goat cheese in your omelet, you can have tomatoes, zucchini, and smoked salmon. WTF, people. Do you see a "build-your-own" option under the description of our delicious omelet? I don't think so. There's an IHOP in Cambridge that will be happy to put up with your shit. Though I doubt they have smoked salmon. Or zucchini, for that matter.

I wish we could just play Sinatra's "My Way" on a loop, since that is definitely the theme song of brunch. A brunch anthem, if you will. But instead, we'll probably just roll with some Feist, a band I used to like until a friend insightfully categorized them as "brunch rock."

And now, just for fun.....the "My Way" lyrics, reimagined for my brunch purposes. Enjoy.

And now that brunch is near
My hangover is really hurtin'
My friend, I'll say it clear
I'll state my order of which I'm certain

I've brunched a life that's full
I changed each dish, gotten sauce on the side, babe
And more, much more than this
I ate it my way

Some chefs- there've been a few
Who hesitated to follow my vision
I did what I had to do
And saw it through without exemption

I modified each charted course
Each careful bite along the byway
And more, much more than this
I ate it my way

Yes there were times I'm sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew
But through it all when there was doubt
I ate it up and spit it out. I faced it all
And I stood tall and ate brunch my way.