Brunch Is Bullshit. Can Someone Just Give Me the Lunch Menu?

I love cooking and dining out pretty equally. The former is meditative and fun, while the latter is a joy, especially when the restaurant is at the top of its game, be it a fine dining establishment or just a simple neighborhood spot doing it well. But most of the time, you won’t find me at a restaurant during daylight hours on Saturday or Sunday for one simple reason: The brunch menu sucks.

A lot of people ask me if my disdain for this weekend meal has to do with eating eggs in the middle of the day. The answer is absolutely not, as eggs are appropriate at all hours, and I eat them with glee for breakfast, lunch and dinner. But if I’m going out to a restaurant, really I’m going for the food.

A nice ambience is appreciated, but it’s not worth a damn if the food isn’t good — I’d rather sit at a card table under fluorescent lighting than in a fancy, done-up space if it means the meal is going to be awesome. In this same vein, brunch really doesn’t let the chefs’ talent shine because they’re cooking the same droll bullshit that’s pleasing to the masses. If I want pancakes or eggs Benedict at 2 p.m., I’ll go to a diner that serves breakfast all day. If I want avocado toast, I’m certainly not going to spend $18 if I can make it at home for $4.

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We all eat lunch like normal people Monday through Friday, so why do we suddenly turn into weirdos who demand breakfast food all day on the weekends? I’m not a dummy — I know a lot of people get up later on Saturday and Sunday mornings and therefore eat a later breakfast that runs into lunch. Even so, this is not my problem. If you refuse to eat breakfast at home, hit up your local diner or cafe that has pastries and breakfast sandwiches and all that other bullshit into the late hours. Is it really too much to ask to get a nice salad or sandwich or literally anything without a poached egg on top wiggling and jiggling like Humpty Dumpty?

Growing up, there was one place in town that served an extravagant Sunday brunch with cocktails and carving stations and made-to-order omelets and the whole shebang. When I first started interning in NYC 18 years ago, I realized that brunch was an actual, regular thing, not just a big special occasion meal. I’ll admit brunch was novel for me for about a year. But even as a 22-year-old who regularly stayed out until 4 or 5 a.m., all I ever wanted was a nice BLT, a plate of steak frites or a bowl of pasta after a late night. So don’t come at me about being old and tired because I’ve wanted to speak this truth for 16 years now.

Anyway, that’s that. By the way, I’m not trying to diss you, restaurants. I’m kind of mad at the people for demanding this dumbass meal when in an alternate reality we could be eating the food that you really like to make at the lunch hour. If you have to throw an egg sandwich or açai bowl on the menu to appease people, go for it. But it’s time for the lunch people to have more options — we’ve been watching you slosh your Mimosas onto your overpriced avocado toast for far too long.