Nina In New York: In Defense Of Brunch

A lighthearted look at news, events, culture and everyday life in New York. The opinions expressed are solely those of the writer.
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By Nina Pajak

Last week, The New York Times ran an op-ed entitled "Brunch Is for Jerks." In it, the author angrily breaks up with weekend brunch, declaring it to be officially the worst ever. Sure, he once enjoyed a hedonistic Sunday Funday with the best of 'em, but now he's grown up and had a kid and he realizes that the brunch life is too white, too bourgeois, too young. It's a soulless, roiling pit of hollandaise sauce teeming with obnoxious foodies, scenesters, and nogoodnik layabout boozehound kids who don't know what's important in life. It takes people away from Sunday's God-fearing intended purpose: spending the day with family. It's silly and annoying and it clogs up the sidewalks with dumb youths with nothing better to do with their freedom than to linger over Bloody Mary after Bloody Mary.

As a fellow parent, and a fellow former bruncher, let me say: THAT SOUNDS REALLY, REALLY NICE.

Instead of partaking in our old routine of waking up late and meeting friends at a cool, new restaurant to spend a few hours getting silly over breakfast meat and juicy cocktails, my husband and I now spend our weekend mornings entertaining the baby and dog as we gulp down lukewarm coffee and mindlessly eat rejected scrambled eggs off the highchair tray. And it's great! Seriously. I love my daughter and being a parent, and if I had it to do again I'd do it a million times over. Wouldn't trade it for the world. Do I wish I was still a carefree youngster getting day drunk and day hungover on a beautiful Saturday? No, honest I don't. But would I still like to hire a babysitter every so often so I can deliberately fritter away some valuable unscheduled time? You're damn right I would.

Of course, we parents are free to bring our offspring out in public, even to restaurants. But those of us who still maintain a basic level of respect for other humans must limit our choice of venue to one that has been deemed "child friendly," which means it in no way bears any resemblance to brunches of yore. And even if we managed to sneak our kid into Per Se, the whole ordeal would be over in 45 minutes or less and require that we pound $60 worth of hollandaise and mimosa as quickly as humanly possible, lest we make a scene. It just isn't the same.

I know it's easy to fall into that "I have adorable human dependents and I'm too old for this sh*t and things were better when I was young" pattern of self-righteous bitterness, but you shouldn't forsake those who are fortunate enough to take the spot you vacated when you went off and became an adult. Much like elders in an office must encourage and mentor their juniors without resentment or misplaced regret, we who have graduated to a slower social life ought to wish these children well, with merely a little bit of furious envy. Outwardly, we must see them as former versions of ourselves, and we must look back with fondness and just a touch of condescending wisdom. Only inwardly may we console ourselves with the hope that they, too, will one day be scraping vomit off a carseat strap at 10 a.m. on a Sunday.

Perhaps the op-ed writer's life as a parent is so magically fulfilling, restful and glamourous that he has genuinely evolved beyond missing these aspects of his previous life. Or maybe he just doesn't like hollandaise sauce as much as I do. Either way, I applaud his exceptional maturity and wonder if he'd be available to watch my toddler while my husband and I sneak out for some quality daylight-squandering.

Nina Pajak is a writer living with her husband, daughter and dog in Queens. Connect with Nina on Twitter!