HAPPIEST PLACE ON EARTH

The Disney franchise is mistaken in claiming their parks to be the happiest place on earth. Have their surveillance camera not seen the crying babies? Are their costume masks pulled so low they do not see the angry teenager embarrassed to be with her family or the cheating husband who dragged his family to compensate for his extramarital affairs? Okay, that may be a bit extreme, but you get the point--Disney is not the happiest place on earth.

Ask me after I win a Super Bowl championship what I am going to do next? It's not Disney. I'm going to brunch--the happiest place on earth.

Sunday morning after Sunday morning, you will see happy people at brunch. Everyone from families to couples to friends to those proudly going stag gather around kitchen tables or arrive in restaurants between the hours of 9 in the morning to 3 in the afternoon with smiles on their faces. Again I exaggerate, since by smile I mean hangover and dark sunglasses. But regardless, what can bring more joy into someone's life than mid-day breakfast food at the table, coupled with good conversation.

So this entry will not debate Disney, but brunch: a New York establishment or DC tradition.

New York City is a land where home cooking is quickly reaching extinction. Every two steps is a new restaurant that someone has claimed as their brunch spot thirty seconds after its opening. But there are also the old-world establishments known for their brunches, like the Carlyle or Waldorf=Astoria's Peacock Alley. While I'd love to brunch there, I have had my share of good times at more homey places like Petit Abielle (where I was introduced to the magic of croque monsieurs) and Kitchenette (which reminds me of my mother's kitchen, right after coming home from church). My all time favorite brunch spot in Manhattan is Caliente Cab, where my addiction to day drinking on the Sabbath began. A few years ago, this fine establishment served unlimited mimosas, margaritas and bloody marys with any $8 to $10 dish. And not that the unlimited deal was not enough, but my favorite brunch dish--huevos rancheros--was magnificent a la Caliente. Runner up, by a far margin, is a certain restaurant by Columbia that has put a time limit on their unlimited mimosas special due to a certain blogger who has an affinity for the adult beverage.

Now in DC, brunch is not so much a way of life, the way it is in New York, but rather, a wonderful, spontaneous tradition. Every Sunday was brunch driven, rather it was when necessary. By necessary, I mean an excuse to meet up with the people I parted ways with merely 4 hours ago so we can talk about what happened 6 hours ago. Upon my arrival at American University, my aunt from Fairfax brought my family to the much acclaimed Cafe Deluxe. Little did I know that this restaurant would become a Sunday brunch destination for me and the lifelong friends I had yet to meet. Yes, me and my BFFs were the loud ones in the back who asked for more water and more crayons. While we certainly had no stock in the business, we acted like we owned the place. One time, we even had the audacity to ask for a server change because, as we justified to the hostess, we know the kind of service Cafe Deluxe offers. Nearby Bethesda lay claim to another Sunday favorite, Mama Lucia. Fondly called Mama Lu's, this was more of the -unch part of brunch. Hitting the spot with amazing pizzas, chicken parm sandwiches, and unlimited fountain soda, this fed the necessity for greasy goodness after a night of debauchary. Other classics that I frequented, were Bethesda Bagels and Georgetown Bagelery--good grab and go spots which usually meant most of the fun took place in the car ride. But the most ultimate brunch place that keeps a special place in my heart, is good old Steak and Egg. Steak and Egg, or formally Osman and Joe's (? What, WTF? I've never heard of that til this second), is an AU establishment. The transition from late-night eatery to brunch spot is little, if not non-existent, but I love this place on a sunday due to its close proximity to my fraternity's rowdiest house and their menu of extremely unhealthy dishes, like the Paul Bunyan. Good memories with my brothers take place here, right before clean-ups and intramural football matches. My favorite memory of brunch at good ol' Steak and Egg invovled my pledge brother, Luis, our other pledge brother Brian's van, and a little party called "Around the World."

Now to the point: winner of brunches...

DC.

What can I say, I'm a sentimental fool who hates the pretention that comes with brunch in the Big Apple.