04 September 2004


Thanks to Poppy Z. Brite, author of unappetizing fiction, I offer you a screed about brunch from One Toque Over The Line.
My personal way to deal with this is to provide eggs dishes that extend a middle finger to traditional scrunch offerings. Eggs Benedict? No. Eggs Allistair Crowley (with blood sausage no less). Eggs Richey Rich (with foie gras, red wine sauce and a hefty price tag. If you're gonna dictate my serving brunch, I'm going to drain your wallet) Eggs Florentine? Please. That's far too pleasant sounding for Sunday morning. How about Eggs Burning in Hell (Soft boiled eggs, quickly deep fried and served with a blistering pepper sauce)
The Angry Chef, is, indeed, angry.

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