A Brunch To Remember

Well hello there. Let's just pretend my neglect over the past few years hasn't happened. I'm like the ex who you run into at The Royal, and realize how you should have never left at all.

I must admit, I have begun to feel a bit disenchanted lately. 26, still live with parents in a borough I dislike, and realizing how quickly I passed the milestones I once took for granted, has left me a bit sadden and frustrated. So, naturally, I needed a good meal. 

Step in, Jane. A west village staple, reminding me that my NYU years might be over, but my love for NYC is omnipresent. A classic store front and a cozy bar area when you first arrive, had reignited what seemed lackluster in my recent years. Classic New York. A good cup of coffee, a solid cocktail, and some hollandaise seemed to cure my now-entering-late-20s blues.

Jane brunch does something that most brunches should - a free cocktail. Yes, I want need some vodka in my OJ. Doesn't every one around noon? Drinks were delicious, and the coffee was strong. I insisted on calling the strawberry butter that accompanied our bread "dip", to rationalize my over consumption. After all, I'm almost 27, have an ulcer, a slight liver issue, and am on a "low fat diet" as per my doctor. The Dante's Inferno of prognoses for a foodie. Back on track... The benedict Jane - poached eggs, crab and crawfish cakes, spinach, and tarragon hollandaise - was on point. Not overly heavy, but rich and flavorful. My boyfriend had the benedict Johnny - crispy grits, maple chicken sausage, poached egg, and roasted tomato hollandaise - as we usually order adorable, counterpart meals. Though I preferred the Jane, the Johnny was equally delicious. 

Brunch has a connection with me, that maybe most people don't understand. It's therapeutic. I love New York, specifically Manhattan, and had almost lost track of that part of myself. Nothing a little hollandaise and screwdrivers can't fix.