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When these things happen, it makes me want to remove my eyeballs with a grapefruit spoon.
Disclaimer: I don't hate everything about brunch. Like, the fact that it's OK to eat a burger and pancakes and a doughnut in the same meal should not be undersold.
But so much about brunch sucks really, really hard. For example...
Do not need to know that this artisanal bacon was smoked over a fire fueled by reclaimed barn wood and hand-tended by a farmer with a PhD in semiotics.
It takes like two seconds to cook an egg. What's the problem here?
No, I actually don't need to read a picture book about the special home-schooled Kenyan elephant named Florentine that shat out my coffee beans, I just need you to fill a mug with decent coffee and give it to me. And then continue to refill it.
NOT OK.
I am all about roughage at any other meal, but brunch is not a time for salad. Only small quantities of vegetables allowed, preferably cooked in butter.
The whole point of brunch is that you can eat whatever you want.
BACK OFF.
Newton's Law of Brunch: If you order pancakes, you'll wish you had ordered eggs. If you order eggs, you'll wish you had ordered pancakes.
It could be the nicest brunch in the world. Your. Baby. Does. Not. Care. Your baby does not know what brunch is. Your baby will cry. And then I will hate you and I will hate your baby, who probably is cute and doesn't deserve that.
The first rule of brunch is never talk about brunch.
Chill, brah.
Don't be like that.
Because they could be at home, sleeping, and instead they're here and you're asking if they can do a vegan version of the French toast.
When line cooks think a meal is stupid and resent making it, you can usually tell.