Where to start? I could begin far too many ways here, but let’s cut to the chase and discuss the real reason I finally got my butt to August - a series of happy coincidences, as follows:
1) Last minute, I decided to stay with my friend in the west village for the weekend.
2) After a late night out on Friday, we were somehow raring to go at 11 AM the next morning.
3) Then, as we were wandering around for the perfect brunch spot, August popped into my groggy head and happened to be right around the corner.
So basically, it was meant to be.
I don’t think I’ve ever shown up for a New York brunch so early, but I now that I have, I know that I need to do it more often. It was quiet, peaceful and nearly empty. Only a couple of people were nestled in August’s covered back garden, clinking glasses and toasting to the wonderful meal they were about to have. Or if they weren’t, they should have been.
EA or AB couldn’t resist the oven baked eggs en cocotte and neither could I. The two of them ordered the Roman, packed with mozzarella and tomato and I settled on the Alsatian with bacon, onions and creme fraishe. These eggs came in individual pans, seasoned beautifully, rich and hearty, and somehow portioned out at the perfect size (picture, here). One side of fruit and a few coffees later, we left the covered garden reluctantly. Or maybe that was just me - I could have sat there happily, sipping my black coffee, for hours on end.