First off, if your Saturday night is at all successful, then you are waking up with a hangover. Maybe you can add to this hangover the slow realization that after the third bourbon drink you convinced yourself that a cigarette was exactly what you need. Couple that with the 8 shots of Jagermeister and your palate is shot like J.R.
But someone says, "Hey let's go eat brunch." Let me translate that, "Some asshole says let's get duped into paying too much for eggs with stuff on top." So you head out into the harsh of day, driving some god forsaken distance, the whole while your stomach rolling around like a club kid on ecstasy. When you get to the brunch spot there is an interminable line, hope for lukewarm coffee and pray for a waitress whose last table didn't stiff her on the check. Face it at this point. the 8th shot of Jagermeister was a better idea.
OK, so maybe you aren't hungover on Sundays. Maybe you are a responsible adult whose typical Sunday includes things like children and church services, and brunch is how you celebrate the simple pleasures of the Lord's day. That is wonderful, just know you will be surrounded by people who are not like you. And you will hear their conversations recapping debauchery. For instance, had you been sitting next to us at Bouchon in Vegas two weekends ago, you would have heard (ooops, what happens in Vegas....)
Don't get me wrong, restaurants (at least the business manager) love brunch. $6 for a glass of crappy sparkling wine and Tropicana? Mimosa me some money.
$8 for a Bloody Mary? Have two.
$14 for two poached eggs with some bacon underneath, a ladle of hollandaise, and half of an English Muffin? Are you kidding me, this is like robbing a children's candy bank!
Now an omelet is a beautiful thing. Thick and rich with just a hint of crispness, stuffed with molten cheese, and maybe a little bit of chili on top; that is good eating. Poached eggs with creamy sauce is deliciousness incarnate. A thick cup of coffee with cream and a wee dram sounds perfect.
But you won't order something that simple. Instead you will get deterred by the appetizers or some special omelet involving crabmeat. Case in point, Lindsay last Sunday at Elizabeth's.* I lobbied her to get the Redneck Eggs (fried green tomatoes with poached eggs). "No", she said, "I want a bunch of the appetizers instead."
So here came boudin balls, fried chicken livers, and a fried grit cake topped with tasso gravy. The boudin balls were spicy and crisp but the harsh mustard sauce unsettled the stomach. The fried chicken livers were a disaster: muddy, mealy, and soggy. The grit cake sat in the stomach like last night's regrets, but the tasso gravy was tasty. Of course since a hangover was involved, after a few bites she was tired of eating. "I ordered very poorly," Lindsay remarked.
Just avoid brunch. The waiters don't want to be there and neither do the cooks. Do the right thing and just eat at home. Or order the simplest thing on the menu. And Jazz Brunch? What psychopath came up with that idea?
Note: I am not holding this against Elizabeth's. I refuse to judge places on a meal I hate. Sorry you had to be the whipping gal.
The Dream Burger at 
Praline bacon is such a good idea that it's a wonder how no one thought of it sooner. Sweet and salty like the more widely known brown sugar or maple bacon, the bits of praline give this bacon a decidedly local flair. It's crunchy, sticky, and sweet and absolutely delicious.
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