Party of Five?

There’s nothing I love more than hearing about snow in Dallas, while enjoying sunny, 45-degree days in New York.

Unfortunately the change in temperatures has also brought the flu to the city. I started feeling under the weather Friday, and have been nursing a sandpaper throat and fire-breathing dragon-cough ever since. Lovely. Especially since I started coughing during the most inconvenient time possible this evening- the prayer before Communion at church. To further make matters worse, our service meets in a beautiful old Episcopal sanctuary with great acoustics. Not a person within earshot was spared.

I learned the hard way this week the near-impossibility of making brunch reservations in Manhattan on Easter Sunday. Thinking I was such the responsible hostess for planning three weeks ahead of my parents’ upcoming visit- I made a list and started making phone calls.

To say I was met with resistance would be an understatement. You would have thought I was asking some of these people to give me one of their kidneys, the way they scoffed at me. AV even solicited the help of her NYC-savvy coworkers, who threw out suggestions left and right and gave her a page of places to try calling.

As we have come to learn in New York, brunch is an art form. Manhattan-ites are serious about it- weather it’s a corner booth in their favorite neighborhood diner with the special and a copy of the Times, or a white table-cloth affair with the in-laws- it’s the perfect weekend indulgence.

Some places were booked solid, some would not take reservations for parties of fewer than six, some will be taking walk-ins but seemed reluctant and others will essentially be free-for-alls the day-of, and are not taking reservations period. I’m envisioning women in pastel shades and fantastic hats, bustling around trying to pretend like Easter in March is occasion-enough to pretend like it’s not still 40 degrees outside.

For a brief moment of insanity I tried to think of how we could somehow manage to get my brother up here for the trip. Not that I wouldn’t love his to see him any other weekend, but primarily because he would make our brunch-party the ideally round number of six instead of the frowned-upon five.

Yeah, I actually thought this was feasible. Flying my brother to New York and using him as a warm body to sip mimosas in a collared shirt and blazer? Sure, why not? Sarabeth’s, Penelope, Pastis, Balthazar, Five Points and many other brunch locales would certainly suggest it. Otherwise?

“My apologies, ma’am, but we’re all booked.”

"I went to a cafe that advertised breakfast anytime, so I ordered French Toast during the Rennaisance."
-Stephen Wright