By: Cori Sue

Because I was sure to wander around like a lost puppy in a sinner’s paradise upon my arrival to Las Vegas, I was fortunate enough to receive plenty of tips from friends of mine.

For Friday brunch, a friend e-mailed, “Society Café, because CSM will love tweeting about this place—one of the best brunch spots on the strip. The floral arrangements are spectacular, too.”

Upon arrival at Society Café, we discover a restaurant laden with fuchsia, tufted couches, black-and-white damask and stripes, and chandeliers—a color scheme very similar, albeit more ostentatious, to my home décor.

“Oh my god, this looks exactly like your apartment,” surmises Linds.

Tweeting and eating and plenty of pink—I am just so predictable.

We sit down in a pink-tufted booth and I squeal with delight. Our waiter, Charlie, is full of smiles and menu tips. I order a Blood Orange mimosa, why not?

The restaurant brings over salted pretzel rolls served with a Dijon mustard dipping sauce. The rolls were both white pretzels and pumpernickel—both delicious—and the differentiation from a typical bread basket was both noted and appreciated.

The brunch-all-day options include pancakes, omelets and the like. However, what struck our fancy was the three-course lunch bento box for $23.

Lindsey’s Bento box included fruit salad, a market chop salad, and a charred tuna slider. She says, “Society Cafe was absolutely perfect for a girl looking for a light-but-delectable brunch pre-Vegas pool bender. The box lunch was simply an improved American twist on the bento box. After biting into the mini Market Chop Salad, I felt like I was detoxing with the array of fresh veggies including avocado, carrots, celery, tomatoes, and hearts of palm. The charred tuna slider was a little smaller than I would have liked, but the delicious steamed bun that substituted for the standard boring roll made up for it. Finishing with a small bowl of berries, I was perfectly satiated and ready to hit the pool!”

Meanwhile, my plate of pizzazz also included a charred tuna slider. I also ordered a caprese salad made with mini heirloom tomatoes, chopped basil and melt-in-your-mouth mozzarella. It was perfect—I only wish there had been more.

Best of all, cinnamon sugar doughnut holes served warm in a paper bag. Adorable, and delicious. (You know how Bitches and brunchers love doughnuts).

The service at Society Café was splendid. The manager charged my iPhone for me—waiting patiently for me to finish snapping pictures before I reluctantly handed over a technological device that is more like an appendage than object nowadays.

The chef came out to say hello and brought out complimentary dessert—just to be nice. He was Italian, handsome, and made miraculous ice cream sandwiches. (I wonder if he’s married?)

The ice cream sandwiches, like the rest of the brunch, were miniature. House-made ice cream between hard-yet-moist wafer cookies in three flavors: Oreo, chocolate peanut butter, and rum raisin. Lindsey loved the rum raisin while I went wild for the chocolate peanut butter.

An adorable Friday brunch in Las Vegas followed by catching up on my Vogue magazines poolside—we were happy girls.

The Bitches say: A. Adorable ambiance, spectacular service, splendid cuisine.

Society Café
The Wynn
3131 Las Vegas Blvd. South.
Las Vegas, NV

By: Cori Sue

Confession: I’ve never been to Las Vegas. Yes, I’ve traveled nearly the whole world round, but I’d never had a burning desire to visit this strange, contrived Disney Land for adults that’s absorbing all the water and all the sin for the entire Western United States.

Put simply, I had no desire to gamble or to get sleazy with strange men on the dance floor. Then, I went to Vegas and didn’t gamble or get sleazy with strange men on the dance floor. Turns out, you can behave in in the City of Sin.

Despite an utter lack of debauchery—the weekend was still marvelous, filled with shopping, laying by the pool, people watching, sneaking in Beatles Love and seeing my ultimate fave DJ, Avicii, with one of my best gal pals, Lindsey.

We stayed in the epicenter of cheesy Vegas make-believe, Caesar’s Palace. The hotel—like everything in Vegas—is enormous, confusing, and filled with fake historical relics, slot machines and tacky tourists. Nonetheless, it was really really nice. The rooms were luxurious and filled with enormous comfy beds. Our room in particular had a spectacular view of the strip and the Bellagio fountain. I was charmed.

On Sunday, we marked the conclusion of a successful Las Vegas weekend with brunch at Michel Richard’s Central, which also has a DC location in addition to Chef Richard’s famous Citronelle. Sitting on the patio in 80 degree weather and sunshine, we were feeling mighty fine.

We began with a fruit plate—watermelon, cantaloupe, strawberries and blueberries served with granola and yogurt. The fruit was fresh and delicious. Lindsey’s table manners went out the window—I looked over to find her biting into watermelon slices and dripping juice everywhere. A perfect breakfast for a hot Nevada morning.

The service was spectacular and our waters– and my fresh-squeezed OJ– were always refilled.

Lindsey ordered her favorite brunch dish—an egg white veggie omelet, fresh fruit, and hash browns. The omelet was the perfect portion size and the hash browns were a bit greasy for her taste. I, however, thought they were delicious.

Meanwhile, I went in for the kill with the crème brulee French toast. The dish was perfectly presented with the toast round rather than square and topped with a lovely dollop of whipped cream and fresh berries. The bread was fluffy and moist, caked in egg, and tasted very strongly of vanilla and cinnamon. The dish was very rich, however, sandwiched between the bread was rich creamy crème brulee custard. I topped it with maple syrup and devoured it nonetheless—and had a sugar-induced headache shortly thereafter.

Best of all, the folks at Central boxed up croissants and coffee for us to take to the airport. How nice!

The Bitches say: A. Fresh, delicious food in large portions from an amazingly gifted chef.

Michel Richard Central
Caesar’s Palace
Las Vegas
Central is open 24-hours and serves brunch and breakfast Saturdays and Sundays.

By: Cori Sue

Arriving in Boston for the first time, I was completely charmed by the city. The colonial architecture, beautiful brownstones, parks, the swan boats in the Boston Common, the sailboats on the Charles River—there were captivating sights and sounds on every corner.

Granted, it was Boston Marathon weekend, so the city was abuzz with elite runners from across the country—and the world—getting ready to run 26.2 on Patriot’s Day. Meanwhile, the rest of the city was getting ready for the huge all-day boozefest that accompanies the marathon.

Moreover, the weather was absolutely perfect, so the Boston Common was filled with attractive young people playing sports, reading in the sun, or coupling up on blankets. The whole experience was energizing and motivating.

Shortly after landing and checking in at the Park Plaza, we headed to the South End of Boston for brunch at South End Buttery, a corner bakery and café. As you arrive, you see plenty of couples with their pets sitting under the restaurant’s yellow awnings enjoying coffee and croissants from the bakery.

The restaurant was bustling with a busy brunch crowd, despite the clock striking two in the afternoon. The hostess whisked us—my mother and me—downstairs to a comfy but slightly too cozy corner booth. The waitress was patient and kind, allowing us to wait about thirty minutes for my Aunt Debbie to arrive from the airport.

As we waited, our coffee mugs and water glasses remained filled. We opted for some hand-cut garlic Parmesan fries, served with ketchup and truffle mayo (my fave). The fries were piping hot and very crispy—twice fried, I’m told—and sprinkled with Parmesan and parsley. They were very garlicy, which I personally love. These fries were absolutely delicious and nearly as good as those by District fry king Granville Moore’s.

When Auntie Deb finally arrived, we put in three very different orders. One thing to note: The restaurant does not tolerate substitutions so I was stuck with home fries (a blessing in disguise) despite wanting a salad following the Parmesan fries. Tough cookies, says the chef.

I selected the smoked salmon and eggs, which was organic cage-free eggs scrambled with chives alongside fresh smoked salmon, mixed greens and home fries. The plate was absolutely enormous—and there was no way I was finishing it. The eggs and salmon were healthy and fresh, leaving me guilt-free. The home fries were enormous chunks of crispy fried potatoes that were the perfect amount of fried and salty without being too much.

Cindy Sue (my mother) selected the huevos rancheros, which wasn’t really huevos rancheros but rather eggs, black beans, a cheese quesadilla and home fries with sides of tomatillo sauce and sour cream. She enjoyed in nonetheless, combining the eggs, home fries and quesadilla into her own style of breakfast. Likewise, her dish was absolutely gigantic—too big for one person, that’s for sure. She says, “My scrambled eggs/huevos ranchero with freshly made salsa was very good but lacked pazzazz!”

As she was brunching with the Bitches, Auntie Deb went wild by selecting the banana and chocolate chip pancakes, topped with banana slices and an enormous dollop of house-made whipped cream with a side of Vermont maple syrup. My mouth was drooling in utter jealousy. The pancakes were moist and fluffy on the inside and slightly crispy on the outside—pure pancake perfection. I have no idea how you make them that way—but kudos to the kitchen for doing so.

Also on the table was a side of fruit, which possessed both necessary requirements: (1) freshness and (2) variety. The bowl was filled with grapefruit slices, strawberries, raspberries, bananas, grapes, kiwi and cantaloupe—and no honeydew, thank goodness!

Throughout the meal, our waitress was kind, friendly and helpful without being over-bearing—adding to the experience rather than taking away.

All in all, a lovely little Boston brunch for the Bitches.

The Bitches say: A+. Delicious, fresh food, crafted from quality ingredients, in large portions, at a pleasant cafe—can’t get much better than that. One of the better brunches I’ve had in ages. Too bad it’s in Boston, or else I’d be back more often.

Note from Becca: Modest Cori Sue doesn’t mention it in this post, but she was in Boston because she ran the Boston Marathon. She kicked major ass in what was the hottest Boston Marathon on record. Go Cori Sue!

South End Buttery
314 Shawnut Ave.
Boston, M.A.
(617) 482-1015
South End Buttery serves brunch on Saturdays and Sundays.

By: Cori Sue

I may be a little Bitch (truth), but my friends—who aren’t all Bitches but are definitely all fabulous—are crucially important to me. So, I make the trip down to Raleigh, N.C., regularly to visit a couple of my besties, Steph and Lauren, and an amalgamation of other pals, both old and new.

The North Carolina capital city is actually growing in notoriety for both lifestyle and cuisine. The farm-to-table movement is huge, there are loads of cute Southern boutiques and it was recently named the best city in America for young professionals. Yep, it’s a good time.

Saturday, the gang headed for a delectable Southern brunch at Beasley’s Chicken & Honey, which is one of four restaurants by local chef Ashley Christensen. Along for the ride was Sierra, a close friend from UNC who now lives in Capetown when she’s not globe-trotting with her hubbie; Lauren, my brilliant and stylish Aspenite turned Southern belle; and Lauren’s harem of guy pals.

Beasley’s is an open, light-filled space with hardwood floors, metal stools and a rustic feel—diners are seated at picnic tables and the menu options are written on chalkboards on the walls.

Drinks were in order after a fun Friday of dancing the night away. I opted for a Bloody Mary, because my mission in 2012 is to try ‘em all. Unfortunately, holy horseradish, this one was loaded with too much! Too much pepper, too, and it was frankly just foul. The rest of the beverages, mimosas, were fresh light and delicious, with a lovely orange peel inside.

Sierra says, “The mimosa I ordered was very good. It was obvious they used fresh squeezed juice and my only complaint was I wish the glass was bit fuller when it arrived.”

While we were most certainly not in Mexico, churros were an option that I leapt upon. They arrived hot, fried but not greasy, and covered in the perfect amount of cinnamon sugar. They were nearly as good as the ones you get in Tijuana.

Then, for the entrees. Allegedly, Beasley’s has the best chicken and waffles in the state of North Carolina. Several boys had the sandwich option—fried chicken topped with a fried egg and gravy on Beasley’s biscuits. The boys chowed them down, but of course.

Sierra and I opted for the vegetarian Benedict option—the Eggs Beasley. The dish looks like of foul, but it tasted absolutely delicious—much better than I was expecting, to be honest.

Sierra says, “I know I probably should have ordered the signature fried chicken, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I love breakfast foods and had to go with eggs. I couldn’t really read the menu, so I went with the first thing that sounded good. The Eggs Beasley was poached eggs atop cornbread with a vegetarian gravy. I am a little high maintenance with my poached eggs and asked for them soft-medium. Surprisingly, they came out done exactly the way I like them. The gravy was surprisingly light … not like any gravy I’ve had before. I was most impressed with the speed of which the food came out. Impressive for a party of our size.”

Also on the table were the huevos rancheros, a crisp tortilla round covered with black beans, fried egg, tomatillo sauce, guacamole and white queso. For Southerners, the folks at Beasley’s sure do Mexican cuisine well.

I ordered a side of biscuits, which were heavenly—as they should be. The Southern carbs were soft, moist, and buttery and brushed lightly with honey on the top. Definitely some of the best biscuits around.

We concluded with another Southern favorite—chocolate pecan pie topped with house-made rich vanilla ice cream. It was literally the best pecan pie I’ve ever had—so so rich, with gooey warm chocolate and a crumbly moist crust. Best of all, it came served with a spork.

The Bitches say: A for top-notch Southern cuisine in a chic environment when you’re in Raleigh. Just don’t order the Bloody Mary.

Beasley’s Chicken &  Honey
237 S Wilmington St.
Raleigh, N.C.
(919) 322-0127
Beasley’s serves brunch Saturdays and Sundays.

By: Cori Sue

We Bitches tend to have some unique brunch adventures while on vacay. From Asheville to Raleigh to Charleston and the Keys, we do love ourselves some Southern brunches. Also, we traipse around world for such funtivities, like Becca’s forced family fun on cruises or my getting stranded on a beach in Colombia once and climbing a mountain the next.

Just this year, I wrote about brunch in Amsterdam from Buenos Aires. Now, after very little persuasion from The New York Times, we recap a seriously Scandinavian brunch at Olsen in Buenos Aires.

Olsen is nestled in Palermo, the ritzy snazzy part of Buenos Aires, which happens to be a ginormous city.

The space is spectacular. You enter into a long rectangular outdoor garden through imposing, sky-high wooden doors. The space is minimalistic and very zen—you pass a rock waterfall that lines the sidewalk as you make your way to the hostess stand.

There is plush patio seating with young mothers drinking mimosas as their chubby faced toddlers scamper about.

In addition to the outdoor patio seating, the restaurant itself is an open air space, with atrium-like walls that are raised on nice days like today.

Brunch lasts until 8 p.m. at Olsen, which is filled with beautiful, impeccably dressed Argentines. I was seated next to a beautiful, dark-haired Argentine man wearing a linen button down, khaki shorts, loafers and aviator sunglasses. Surely, he had just come from a polo match, why had I not been invited?

As this is a Scandinavian restaurant, we began with cornmeal blinis topped with smoked salmon, crème fraiche and black caviar. It tasted just as amazing as the photo looks.

There is a prix fix brunch option that includes bread and coffee service, champagne and your choice of a brunch entrée.

We all began the brunch with champagne and closed with espresso, as is customary after large Argentine meals.

El Cuco (nickname for Juanito) opted for sausage and potato latkes, served with a side salad. The side salad was fresh and light. All meat products in Argentina are exemplary, and the El Cuco said the sausage paired surprisingly well with the latkes.

Sarah chose the scrambled eggs, which were creamy and topped with chives. The eggs came served with bacon and Olsen’s to-die-for (TDF) crispy skilled potatoes.

The potatoes, which were served alongside three of the plates on the table that day, were heavenly. Warm, crispy, fried and salty—they were perfection. There is a side of creamy mayonnaise like dipping sauce on each dish, should you need additional flavor.

Mimi chose the bocadillo, or sandwich, which was eagerly shared between the other carnivores at the table. Ham, cheese, tomato and micro greens on a fresh baguette. Those who could nosh (yours truly excluded) dubbed it the best dish on the table, next to the potatoes.

However, I opted for the smoked salmon (because the salmon on the blinis just wasn’t enough) served with the TDF potatoes and a side of balsamic grilled veggies. The vegetables were presented in a charming little tower—a red pepper, onion, sweet potato, carrot and eggplant—and were grilled to perfection.

Olsen
Calle Gorriti 5870
Palermo
Buenos Aires, Argentina
11-4776-7677

By: Cori Sue

There are a-thousand-and-one things I love about Buenos Aires, Argentina. I lived there until I was merely five years old—not long enough to remember much, but long enough that Spanish was my first language, and I still speak it with the quintessential Argentine accent. However, my family returned regularly—keeping in touch with old friends and old traditions like parilla, mate, tango and more.

I was back in BA in March for research for my master’s thesis in renewable energy at GWU’s Elliott School. I won’t bore you with the intricacies of eolic energy and methanation, but rather get to the good stuff—brunch, but of course.

So what are those thousand and one things? For starters, beautiful, tall, dark and handsome men who wear button-downs, loafers and play polo. Sexy sultry tango dancers in the street. Media lunas and dulce de leche (croissants topped with caramel) are considered a normal, routine breakfast. Parillas with all you-can-eat grass-fed steak with sides of provoleta—grilled provolone cheese with spices—on the side. Old world architecture. Dinners that last until late into the night and nights out dancing that last until the wee hours of the morning. It’s European; but more dramatic and different.

Best of all, as we discovered when we stumbled upon Café Oui Oui, brunch is served all week long. Oui Oui is a corner café that is nearly entire pink, with the menu spelled out colorfully on chalkboards across the restaurant. There are fresh-baked pastries of every size and shape imaginable—from waffles to media lunas (read: croissants) and pan au chocolat. The tables are pastel pink picnic tables, which is strangely apropos for this restaurant.

Beautiful, relaxed Argentines chit-chatting on pale pink wooden chairs as remixed Regina Spector plays in the background. Even on a Tuesday morning, the Portenos, or Argentines, seem calm and glamorous—brunching and reading newspapers as if they didn’t have a care in the world.

We opted for cappuccinos and coffees while we did work between research meetings. We shared the yogurt and granola. The dish arrived with a bowl of sweet, crunchy nut-filled granola, a jar of plain yogurt and a bowl of fresh fruit that included pears, apples, oranges, peaches and more deliciousness.

Juan opted for the traditional breakfast of coffee and toast, which was served with jam and dulce de leche, of course.

It would be remiss to not have a full brunch—and unfair to you, dear readers—so we also ordered a waffle. The waffle was dense, unlike a Belgian waffle, and served warm. Again, it was to be slathered with dulce de leche. It was quickly devoured without complaint.

All in all, delicious café cuisine in a perfectly precious ambiance.

The Bitches say: Delightful pink café in Buenos Aires filled with college kids and intellectuals. Must-to if you’re in the city and love brunch—or a good pastry.

Calle Nicaragua 6068
Buenos Aires, Argentina
(0)11 4949 6444

By: Cori Sue

Buenos dias, Bitches! Right now I’m in Buenos Aires, Argentina, wandering the vintage markets of San Telmo, eating Empanadas, catching up with old Argentine friends and dancing the Tango with tall strangers. Not too long ago, I was far away in the snowy streets Amsterdam, where of course I brunched. Here’s the review.

I never had a desire to visit Amsterdam. Why would I want to smoke marijuana and see naked girls in the Red Light District? Pop culture and awful movies like Eurotrip had preemptively negated my desire to visit the Dutch city.

Nonetheless, when an opportunity to visit Amsterdam through my day job arose, I jumped at the opportunity. (Because you don’t say no to Europe.) I’m glad I did, as Amsterdam is one of the most unique and charming cities I’ve encountered in my lifetime of frolics across Europe, the United States and South America.

Despite the bitter cold and grey skies of January, Amsterdam charms and delights. As you wind through the narrow streets and canals wind of the consolidated town you stumble across beautiful brownstones so old they start to lean over the canals below.

It is an Old World European city, with enormous churches and beautiful palaces and government buildings reaching high into the sky. Below, there are cozy little cafes, print shops, used book stores, and more boutiques than any Bitch could want.

Dutch citizens tend to navigate the narrow canal-side streets on foot or by bicycle. I’ve never seen so many people on bicycles—much less looking so stylish. During rush-hour, hundreds upon hundreds of bicyclists ride by on their way to work and school, rain or snow (and there was snow), and they look impeccably chic despite it all.

As a pedestrian, I was nearly knocked on my tail by a flurry of bicyclists each time I stepped off the sidewalk prior to my adequate dosage of morning espresso. “THINK BIKE!” yelled my co-worker and out came the mom arm. He nearly saved my life upwards of a dozen times and for that I am eternally grateful.

On the Thursday of our trip, it began to snow and, soon enough, the city was covered in a lovely white blanket of powder that remained through the weekend.

Amsterdam is a cosmopolitan city, and so is its cuisine. Traditional Dutch food has German and Dutch influences—lots of sausage, cheese and bread served with mustard alongside wheat beer in rustic cafes. For breakfast, it’s heavenly croissants and cappuccinos. For lunch, you head to a cafe for a sandwich and more coffee. Brunch is harder to differentiate in Amsterdam, as most citizens opt for breakfast, or lunch, not both.

After a morning of shopping, my friend and I decided upon Café Nielsen, selecting the cafe over another brunch spot on the same block that served pancakes and was titled by the same name.

The staff was friendly and accommodating as we nestled up to the bar to wait for a table. Starving, we opted for croissants and coffees as we waited for brunch. In Europe, the coffee and croissants are always delightful, and at Café Nielsen this statement held true. Unfortunately, the rest of brunch was merely average once we were led to our table.

The brunch menu at Café Nielsen is simple and affordable—with typical “American-style” egg breakfast plates. My brunch date opted for such a dish—scrambled eggs served with two slices of toast and fruit. It was fine, but nothing to write home about. The eggs could have been creamier, but instead they were dull.

Also on the table were smoothies, of which we selected both menu options. I slurped down a strawberry banana smoothie made with orange juice that was light and refreshing. My brunch date chose the Black Forest, made with yogurt and berries and far too thick.

My brunch entrée was a vegetable quiche, which was cheesy and filled with vegetables, but, again, nothing memorable. It was served with a fresh side salad of mixed greens, tomatoes, cucumbers and red onions topped with balsamic vinaigrette.

While Amsterdam was charming, delightful and memorable, I’m sad to say Café Nielsen was not. I should have opted for the obviously titled Pancakes restaurant down the road, but, luckily, my charming week was hardly affected.

Cafe Nielsen
Berenstraat 19  1016 GG
Amsterdam, Netherlands

Beyond brunch, here are my recommendations for your Amsterdam adventures:

To stay: Hotel Arena
To shop: Shoebaloo and SPRMRKT.
To see: Van Gogh musem, Rijksmuseum and the Royal Palace.
To lunch: Café Noir
To dine: Bond is a less-known, upscale restaurant tucked away in  a residential part of town. De Blauwe Hollander for traditional and satisfying Dutch cuisine.
To drink: Momo, an upscale sushi bar, is perfect for a snazzy night of cocktails.

By: Becca

Asheville is a frequent pit stop for me, usually for three key reasons: 1. I need some mom time (and some clothes and shoes from her closet). 2. Need to detox. Hike. Get some fresh air. 3. I am driving from the southern part of the country to the northeast, and it makes a convenient and free overnight stop.

That’s what happened last weekend. In an epic road trip from Florida to D.C., we stopped in Asheville for one night. That evening, of course, we went to my heaven on earth: The Battery Park Book Exchange & Champagne Bar. It’s a multi-level used book shop, live music venue, and champagne bar that serves you the best bubbly straight to your cozy couch in little book alcoves.

The next morning, before heading off on the highway due north, we headed for Ello, our usual brunch spot, for a quick bite. Ello was packed, every table full. Also packed? Early Girl Eatery on Wall Street. Disappointed, we decided to head to Weaverville for brunch, which is sort of on the way out of town. We were walking back to our car when we passed Table.

Despite the number of times that I’ve been to Asheville, I have to admit, I have never dined in Table before. I’ve always gone for Mela or Bouchon for dinner. But Table always looks cozy and inviting from its windows. The dining room has floor to ceiling glass blocks on one side, high ceilings and beams, and warm wooden floors and lavender walls.

We were a little worried when we walked in and there was only one couple in the entire restaurant. We sat at a sunny table by the windows, and ordered coffee from the very pregnant waitress and the assistant who was trailing her (and training to replace her, we assumed).

The coffee came in all different beautiful vintage mugs and saucers—very cute. The cups, the sprig of flowers, the thick wooden table, and the white napkins made our table a picture straight off Pinterest.

Our immediate complaint was that Table didn’t didn’t serve any espresso drinks. My mom just wanted her usual cappuccino, but all they had was plain coffee. She was slightly miffed.

They do offer a selection of wines by the glass, beers, and spirits, along with some brunch cocktails, all after noon on Sundays (‘tis the law). They also offer a classic bloody Mary, a bloody Maria, and a Kentucky Mary, made with old bourbon. In addition to a mimosa, they also offer barrel-aged negroni, aged 50 days in new American white oak barrels. Everyone say, ooohh.

The service accidentally dropped Laura’s Sunday pastry on the table—we think it was the trainee’s mistake. Before they could say oops, we had gobbled it up. It was a sweet star-shaped croissant with cream cheese. It was warm and fluffy and delicious. Perfect to start.

There were two things grabbing my attention on the menu beside the Benedict: the chocolate chip waffles and the chicken and waffles. Can I combine the dishes? I asked. Pregnant waitress ran off to check. Yes, you can combine. Woot!

The chocolate chip waffle (served as half a waffle with the fried chicken) was fluffy and delicious and packed with big chunks of chocolate. The fried chicken was tasty and easy to pull apart. There was a bit of syrup drizzled over the dish and it was served with some greens on the side.

Mom ordered the Benedict, which is why I didn’t. The house-made biscuits were the best things on the table, as they were buttery and delicious. They were topped with slices of sweet ham, big poached eggs, and hollandaise. A great Benedict, with standout biscuits.

The biscuits were also winners with the gravy, which was made with spices and lots of meat. We love meaty gravy on biscuits. This dish was quite small, and so we ordered it with a side of scrambled eggs, but it was extremely filing, as the waitress warned.

My brother ordered the hanger steak with fried egg. It was cooked perfectly, had lots of juices and flavor, and came with smoked fingering potatoes and chimichurri for taste. He cleaned the plate.

Some other dishes our little table of four didn’t try: shrimp and grits, risotto frittata (with beach mushrooms), huevos rancheros, and an oyster po’boy. Or, for the less adventurous, there’s a simple eggs, toast, and bacon dish.

By the time we left, all the tables were full, and the level of conversation noise was rising. We paid our check, presented in another cute antique cup and saucer, and piled back in the car for the eight-hour drive back to D.C.

The Bitches say: A. Table has a small brunch menu, but it hits all the basics and does them extremely well.

Table
48 College Street
Asheville, NC 28801
(828) 254-8980

By: Cori Sue

“Summer lovin, had me a blast. Summer lovin, happened so fast. Met a boy, crazy for me,” I crooned, batting my eyelashes, flipping my hair, and envisioning myself a blonde in leather pants akin to Sandy in Grease.

“Met a girl, cute as can be,” replied my dance partner, in a Spanish accent so thick I’m not sure he even knew what he was singing.

“Summer days driftin’ away, to uh-oh those summer nights. Uh well-a well-a well-a huh,” we continued on emphatically. My hardly-21-year-old Colombian dance partner spun me around, dipping me as my costume crown falls to the ground.

I am sunburnt (from climbing a mountain), wearing a tiara and a sash, along with various other assorted props. I’m drunk off of bad oldies tunes and one far-too-strong-and-larger-than-life mojito. It’s New Year’s Eve. My teeny bopper dance moves are unstoppable.

Where the hell am I?

Andres Carne de Res, a five-floor amusement-style restaurant-turned-night-club that boasts a 15-page menu, overpriced and oversized tropical beverages and more steak and frivolity than even the most American of Americans could fathom. Waitresses wear an assortment of buttons. Other employees assault you with puppets. People put crowns and sashes on you. It’s like TGIFridays, or Fudruckers. But on steroids, and in Colombia.

In Colombia? You say. Like the country?

Yes, Colombia, that drug-invested dangerous country where you’re sure to get carried off by the FARC and held for ransom, according to my overly concerned relatives.

Why, you ask?

In another one of my hair-brained whirlwind plans, I’d dragged my god sister and oldest friend, Anna, off to Bogota for New Year’s holiday (much to my god-parents’ dismay). Because, it would be fun, and well, why not?

Why Colombia? (Everyone asked).

Well, allow me to elaborate … and then get to brunch. Here’s my short list on why—and what you should do—when you visit Colombia.

1.) Have fun. For starters, there are spectacular establishments like Arnes Carne de Res where you can stuff yourself with delicious cuisine, flamboyant cocktails and dance to Euro House music, Spanish salsa tunes and American pop all-at-once.

2.) Experience an amazing country. I’m not here to give you a geography or history lesson. But, Colombia is one of the most beautiful countries out there—there are mountains, jungles, tropical and Caribbean beaches. There are bustling and thriving cities—epicenters of culture for you to enjoy. You can climb a mountain in the jungle one day, relax on a Caribbean beach the next, and visit world-class museums another.

3.) Be cheap—and go shopping. The exchange rate of U.S. dollars to Colombian pesos two-to-one and everything is dirt cheap. Spirit Airlines and Jet Blue fly to three major Colombian cities—Bogota, Cartagena and Medellin—and you can snag a ticket for less money than it takes to get to California. Colombia is the emerald capital of the world. In addition to emeralds, there are all sorts of authentic, hand-made indigenous gold jewels and beaded baubles, Panama hats, tapestries, hammocks. You name it.

4.) Have an adventure. While in Colombia, we climbed a tropical mountain. We also took a bike tour through the very hilly and traffic filled downtown Bogota. Ecotourism, tropical wildlife, scenic hikes, hang gliding, scuba diving and whale watching—you can do all that and more in Colombia.

5.) Eat fresh. Colombia has an abundance of tropical fruit. Every morning, everywhere, you can drink fresh-squeezed mango, orange, lemon, pineapple or coconut juice. There are street stands selling fresh cups of mango, papaya and pineapple for two pesos, or less than a dollar, on every corner. On the weekend, there are markets filled with tropical fruits like you’ve never seen in your life.

6.) Drink beer. Like everything else, Colombian beer is cheap, and light. One of the nation’s signature beverages is a cerveza michelada, basically a beergarita—lime, salt, and beer. It’s delicious, trust me.

7.)  See beauty—even in fat people. Bogota’s Museo de Oro, or museum of gold, has the world’s largest share of gold artifacts and is listed in the Thousand Places to See Before You Die. Additionally, Fernando Botero, the Colombian painter who paints morbidly fat people and somehow makes them cute, has his namesake museum around the corner.

8.) Brunch (or breakfast). One day, we hopped over to La Puerta Falsa, an adorable breakfast café hidden in la Candelaria, the historical part of town, that was founded in 1816. We climbed up the wooden stairs to a loft-style portion of the restaurant and ordered Colombia’s three traditional dishes.

First, huevos pericos, scrambled eggs with tomatos and onions and served in a cast iron skillet. No matter where you go in Colombia, huevos pericos are served the same way.

Then, a tamale, a combination of yellow cumin rice, chicken, onions, and peppers served inside a banana leaf. Warm, delicious and filling.

Saving the best for last, Colombians eat cheese dipped in hot chocolate for breakfast. Sounds bizarre, but it’s not. Rich, dark hot chocolate comes served with huge slices of fluffy buttered bread and a soft, mildly flavored cheese, which you dip into the hot chocolate.

Though at first hesitant, I can honestly say it was delicious. But, feeding me bread, cheese and chocolate in one meal is likely to garner positive reviews

La Puerta Falsa
Calle 11 No 6-50
Bogota, Colombia

Also, in Colombia, they have llamas, which is clear reason to buy your plane ticket.

By: Becca

Over the weekend I flew south to defrost. I hadn’t been to Key West since my 21st birthday, during which I got sloppy at Sloppy Joe’s and did other things that were equally as cliché. I thought the little island would be worth a second visit now that I’m slightly older and wiser and not as much of a lush (OK, I’m still a lush, but that’s beside the point).

I needed a weekend to decompress and unwind—because clearly seven days in the Caribbean was just not enough—and I was lucky enough to be treated to a weekend at the Waldorf Astoria’s Casa Marina resort, which provided that relaxation to the extreme.

The resort is stunning—worthy of expensive weddings and resortwear fashion shoots. The lobby opens up to a grand promenade leading down to a pristine private beach. Hammocks swing from slender palm trees, waiters scuttle about answering to your every whim, and two pools mirror each other, serenely inviting you for a dip.

My whim, for practically the entire weekend, was to lounge in a hammock. In fact, on Saturday, my entire day consisted of getting out of bed, getting in a hammock, ordering brunch from said hammock, and then slipping in and out of consciousness until it was dinner time, which was again ordered from the hammock while watching the most beautiful sun sink below the horizon.

It was bliss. That’s not all I did, though. I was a rebel. I looked up the top things to do in Key West, per various travel blogs and magazines, and I completely blew off all the suggestions, which included such things as the Hemingway house (nope, not with that line), the lighthouse (meh), the Southernmost point (zzzzzzzzzzz), and touristy Mallory square (I think I’ve seen enough cruise ship passengers this month).

Instead, I give you …

The top five things to do in Key West, if you’re a Bitch:

1. Spend at least 12 hours in a hammock at Casa Marina (see above).

2. Giggle in delight over the ridiculously naughty dessert menu at Better Than Sex. All the cocktails have rim jobs (read: dipped in dark Belgian chocolate), and all the desserts are extravagantly rich and decadent. We had the namesake Better Than Sex, a cake baked in a “ménage a trois” of chocolates. There are even books full of dirty questions on the tables as conversation starters.

3. Have a fancy-pants seafood dinner. It’s fresh as can be, and island chefs know how to prepare fish right. We went to Hot Tin Roof, right on the water in the Ocean Key Resort. The service was excellent, the lighting perfect (the menus lit up when you opened them), and the food fresh.

4. Get up early to brunch at Blue Heaven. The place is known for its eclectic character and charm, with chickens wandering around at your feet, and a reggae musician hitting the metal drums from a stage. You eat in a rustic back garden, and the food is supposed to be superb. There is reportedly a lobster Benedict with key lime hollandaise sauce that is to die for. Alas, we got there at 1 p.m., and so the wait was an hour and a half. We were starved, so we waddled across the street to …

5. Brunch at La Creperie. Sit at the bar, which gives you direct view of the most hardworking couple of French women I’ve ever seen slap crepes around. It was mesmerizing watching Yolande Findlay and Sylvie Le Nouail spread the gooey buckwheat mixture on three crepe makers, and pile up the fresh sliced strawberries, pears, apples, Brie, goat cheese … you name it.

The breakfast crepes were phenom. We tried La Complète, which was filled with egg, Swiss cheese, and sausage (though you could have bacon or ham, if you prefer). The lunch crepes were even better. I had one with Brie, bacon, and chopped Granny Smith apple, which came with an apple slice on top. It sounds like an odd combination, but it was extraordinarily delicious.

We were so impressed—and mesmerized by Yolande and Sylvie in action—we went for a dessert crepe, the special, which is filled with homemade chocolate ganache, fresh strawberries, almonds, and raspberry coulis. And on top? Whipped cream, a big scoop of ice cream, sliced bananas and strawberries, and all of this topped with chocolate syrup, powdered sugar, and almond shavings. Out of control.

So there you have it. While you’re in Key West, I recommend you do nothing but stuff yourself with the island’s food. Because nothing makes a better vacation than that.

La Creperie
300 Petronia St.
Key West, FL 33040
(305) 517-6799