I was not pleased when I first discovered New York’s Brunch Obsession.

During my days of funemployment, I frequently discovered hole-in-the-wall restaurants featuring surprisingly affordable breakfast deals.  One such restaurant offered a “Yogurt and Granola” dish that left a big impression.

This was no standard yogurt, but homemade greek yogurt so thick it could nearly pass for ice cream – slightly but not overly sweetened!  And the granola, also homemade, featured nuts!  seeds!  honey!  Remarkably free of raisins and cinnamon, my granola nemeses.  Not saturated in sugar!  Not clumped into jaw-threatening rocks!  I was excited to bring Eric back on a weekend to share my new discovery.

Not long after, we returned on a Saturday morning.  My mouth watering, I glanced at the menu – only to realize with horror that the granola item was not listed!  I flagged down a waitress.  “Did the menu change?” I asked her.  “Do you still have the yogurt and granola?”

“That’s only on the weekday menu,” she replied, with a smile.  “This is the brunch menu!”

We left.  I couldn’t deal.

I was to find that not just this restaurant, but almost every breakfast or lunch serving establishment on the island of Manhattan switches to its Brunch Menu on weekends.  The  Brunch Menu features similar, but more complicated dishes, at higher prices.  To really twist the knife, the menus also feature Signature Cocktails ranging from $8 and up.  And, the tables are packed.  The restaurants are overflowing.  People can’t wait to wait in line for nearly an hour for the chance to pay high prices for strange foods and get drunk at noon on a Saturday.  I didn’t get it – why would they do this?

Visiting friends seem to change the perspective on a lot of things.  Activities one would never consider normally (relaxing stroll through Times Square anyone?) suddenly seem like the best ever idea.  It’s like taking someone to Burning Man for the first time!  Roark, Ryan & John Paul brought new inspiration and the team explored NYC like never before – drinking till 5 am on a weeknight, sleeping 5 people in a tiny apartment, eating unprecedented quantities of cheap pizza, renting a private Karaoke room, and yes – even going to brunch.

The motivation came from a coworker.  “You’ve never really DONE brunch,” he claimed. “Try the Sunburnt Cow.  Unlimited mimosas for $20.”  We put it solidly on the calendar for the coming Saturday.

Unseasonable sun and warmth slowed our trip to the restaurant as we strolled through the East Village.  The Sunburnt Cow did not give us the reception we had expected.  The doors were closed.  No customers waited out front.  Tumbleweeds drifted in a distant intersection.  (Tumbleweeds added for dramatic effect only.)  A foreboding piece of rumpled paper on the building claimed the restaurant was closed due to health inspection failure.  An employee on the porch claimed that the basement had flooded during the storm, and though unused, was the cause of the violation.  She smiled and encouraged us to come back soon.

We straggled into a nearby breakfast spot with outdoor tables.  It was nearly 2, we had hardly eaten, Roark had been to the Urgent Care that morning for an issue with his eye, we had all had more drinks than hours of sleep in the previous week, and to top it off had just come from the Math Museum, where we had spent the last of our brainpower enjoying Math.

The menu featured Brunch items.  For $12, the meal included one Brunch item, one coffee, and one Brunch Cocktail – bloody mary or mimosa.

As I started my third bloody mary and took a bite of my seafood quesadilla, I finally understood the Brunch Obsession.  I’ll tell you all about it, next time you visit, over brunch.