I don't love brunch, but I understand its appeal. Why sit down to black coffee, two eggs over-easy, some bacon and toast when you can gorge on eggs Benedict and wash it down with a mimosa that's endless and sweet? Why poke at a single pastry when you can sample a bread basket and sip a Bloody Mary? Brunch lets you sleep in and gives you an excuse to dress up and be social. It's cute.
But brunch is only offered on weekends as far as I know, and that leaves five morning meals without an identity. So when I tweeted yesterday morning "what's for breakfast?" it was out of genuine curiosity about how Dallas likes to start their day. The Cheap Bastard chimed in:
@scottreitz Pretty sure nothing is better under-turned. Also, these frozen mini-waffles own your breakfast.
The under-turned was in response to my previous message about a sad plain croissant I was trying to enjoy at Zaguan. The frozen-mini waffles were indicative of the real breakfast killer in America. Nobody's got time.
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Even though my croissant left a little to be desired (it lacked the flaky layers found in a masterfully made pastry), the ritual of sitting down with a coffee and being quiet with myself was a nice one. I'm inspired to poke around and find other pastry shops around Oak Lawn. A table with a view. A morning paper. A light, airy crusty croissant that drops shards of golden pastry with every bite. That would make for an excellent morning.