Too late for breakfast, too early for lunch, I just don’t have the heart to call the chicken and coleslaw leftovers from the feast at Dinosaur Bar-B-Que that I plowed through in about five minutes flat at 11:30 this morning “brunch.”
First of all, brunch is such a civilized affair — yes, even the boozy ones, at least initially. Friends, families, others, set dates, pick restaurants, come together to indulge in the weekend’s leisurely pace, talk, laugh, otherwise socialize, simply enjoy a good meal and good company.
Secondly, isn’t brunch a weekend thing? I mean, if Friday was one of my “days off” (it’s not) I might consider calling a late morning/early afternoon brunch. “Might” being the operative word there.
Let’s call it a truce, shake hands and move onto what has the potential to be a very interesting dinner …