It’s been a slow courtship, but I think I’m falling for New York. I go there for work every once in a while, which means I get to sample the swankiest hotels and restaurants (my job, if I’ve never told you, is amazing). But when I’m there working, I rarely have the time to explore or play with friends who live in the city.
So I returned recently for a weekend and invited everyone I know in New York to have a night out in the gutter. (No, really, there is a bar called The Gutter.) All it took was a great group of friends, a pair of aviators, a vuvuzela, and a fully stocked bar for us to run rampant around Brooklyn. In the wee hours, we rounded off the debauchery with fried pickles and burgers from DuMont Burger (fried pickles … guuuuhhh).
As is standard when you’re out drinking with a large group, people dropped like flies throughout the night. By Sunday morning there were only four of us left. So we stumbled out in our sunglasses to find some grub in Brooklyn.
We were eager to try Five Leaves, an adorable little café/bar in Greenpoint, but it was too packed with hipsters in inappropriate sunglasses and extremely coiffed hair, and we were short on time.
So we dragged ourselves around the corner to a little diner/bar named Enid’s. I wanted to love it: funky décor, super chill vibe and, hell, they deliver beer or wine to your house! But, there was a reason we snagged a table so fast. The food was sort of meh, and the service was just the same.
According to Ben, our host who so kindly put us up for the weekend, Enid’s was the hot place to Brunch six years ago. In fact, he says, he’s a little nostalgic about the joint, and might even get defensive if I trash it too much.
OK, Ben. I’ll be nice. (Did I mention Ben is an amazing photographer, and he shot these stunning brunch photos? I die.) But the truth is, when you’re in New York, everything should taste spectacular – from the Four Seasons’ prix fixe to the hot dog from the grubby street vendor around the corner. Enid’s let me down a bit, even if my taste buds were dulled by hangover.
Ben ordered the huevos rancheros, which had two eggs on tortillas with cheese and the usual: rancheros sauce, sour cream, pico de gallo, etc. Tammy totally went for the Hungry Bear, because she was definitely a hungry bear that morning. Her honey was a biscuit sandwich with egg, sausage and gravy. I stuck with the usual eggs Benny, which were nothing spectacular. I really should start ordering something different for brunch.
The winner, we all voted, was the plum pancakes. And it was simply that: freshly sliced plums on the perfect pancakes. I think there was even a little syrup and powdered sugar sprinkled on top … not quite sure. The dish isn’t on the regular brunch menu, I think we caught them when plums were in season, but perhaps you can try to order it anyway. They were the finest of the brunch bunch (Go ahead, drool over that first photo. I’ll wait.).
The bitches say: B for Ben! (Because otherwise I would have given it a C). Funky and chill, just like Brooklyn. But the service was slow and the food was blah.
560 Manhattan Ave.
Brooklyn, N.Y. 11222