This morning, I rediscovered the pleasure of brunching.
Forget the art of the cheese plate, and let’s talk about the essentials of a stellar late-moring soiree. It all depends on nosh and company.
Here is my field report:
Invite strangers.
When comrades come to a party, a clique forms and no one leaves the kitchen. When you select a random assortment of friends, the room swirls. There is so much to talk about – conversation becomes the Easter Egg Hunt, yes! This morning I collected notes on how to make a cucumber gimlet (from a bartender), the history of sea shell collecting (from the author of an encyclopedia), and sketches of Philadelphia in the 1960s (from a revolutionary in a bandana). I also learned where to buy a smart second-hand suit.
Establish a Bloody Mary Bar.
Be sure to tape a recipe to the counter. Set out tomato juice, wedges of limes and lemons, Tobasco, a dish of celery salt, plus alternating olives and okra on bamboo spears. Then let everyone jostle and concoct.
Hang a chandelier over the buffet.
Let’s agree that a fabulous party is all about the lighting. Lox should look luminescent. The cream cheese should give off a pearlescent glow – not a glare. It’s a brunch, not an office party, so turn off the overhead fluorescents.
Kick the guests out of the kitchen.
Controversial, I know. But the flow of traffic is a lot easier to manage if you aren’t trying to scramble eggs with a crowd. Encourage basking by setting out a few appetizers on a coffee table, like a dish of radishes with a little salt shaker, plus a tray of sliced cucumbers with rosettes of sun-dried tomato goat cheese (mock deviled eggs?)
Serve a collage.
Brunch should be vivid and encourage play. An artful arrangement of little dishes containing items that can be assembled to make a towering bagel or a regal salad is more fun than an egg casserole, say. Consider: anchovies, capers, cheeses, lox, pickled veggies, scrambled eggs, lightly dressed arugula, bacon, a bread basket.
Burn something.
That’s right. Nothing brings people together like a crisis -- when the fire alarm goes off because the oven is smoking, everyone rallies around the cause. Laughter ensues. More drinks get poured. And then it’s time for seconds.