Over the weekend, while spending time with my mother and younger brother, Adam, who was visiting before starting his senior year of university, the family, namely my mother and I, decided to have an opulent meal of animal fat and alcohol goodness. After a mildly successful trip to the High Line, the new urban decay transformed to city park epicenter, where after about half an hour my mother desperately fled for want of relief from the sun and parade of strollers, we went to brunch at Char No. 4, a place local to my mother's temporary home in Carroll Gardens. Our server was a bit timid, somehow unsure of herself, or perhaps tired, however, the atmosphere is open and pleasant, making for a general grand time.
To start, I imbibed a Kenny Perry, a refreshingly bold bourbon cocktail featuring lemonade, ice tea, and mint leaves; the drink is a beautiful amalgamation of the traditional, highfalutin Mint Julep and the carelessly innocent Arnold Palmer. For a warm afternoon, it was ideal.
The above photograph does not afford my delicious dish proper justice; the luster of bacon grease is a bit off. Nonetheless, poor photography skills aside, this was an incredible, and heavy, interpretation of eggs Benedict: the typical English muffin, Canadian bacon, and creamy hollandaise sauce were replaced with buttery biscuits, house-cured bacon, and a healthy portion of bacon gravy. Reminiscent of a meal appropriate for cowboys on the range, mountaineers, coal miners, or any other stereotypically rugged and masculine archetype, I felt both triumphant and a bit lethargic while consuming heartily.
While I did not exactly clean my plate, I did some considerable work on this, most likely resulting in the greatest caloric consumption for a single sitting.