The Wild Brunch, and Why I'll never order french toast.

The name "The Wild Brunch" comes from an episode of Gossip Girl.  While I don't watch Gossip Girl anymore, I was a semi-regular viewer for Seasons 1-3.  The Wild Brunch is my favorite episode, because it involves brunch.

I decided to write a brunch blog, because Ben and I have been having brunch basically every weekend since I started my new job, which usually does not involve working on the weekends.  I have been living in Sacramento for about 7 months, and I'm having a major brunch-o-rama phase.  So feel free to use my brunching strategies (i.e. eat and drink a lot), or be inspired to come visit me one weekend and I'll take you along for some firsthand experience.

And now, the first of many Shady Lady stories (not for the weak of heart or stomach),

My enemy

I had brunch with Ben, my sister Erin, and Erin's friend Callie...

Wait.  Side story to all MacPhee family members.  During that particular brunch, Erin and I found out that Callie's dad was a higher-up at STAR MARKET for like 15 years.  RIP Star Market, Times Market is not the same.

Okay so back to my intended french toast story.  Ben and I had already decided on our food choices, Eggs Benedict and the Steak and Arugula salad, respectively, but Erin and Callie were still perusing the menu.  Since I'm such a good sister, I informed Erin that Ben had tried the french toast the week before and had decided it was very good, so she should consider ordering it, although I had not tried a single bite.  Erin's breakfast identity is the opposite of my breakfast identity.  I'm strictly a salty/savory breakfast person, and Erin is a waffles/pancakes/french toast/SYRUP person.  She has a syrup problem.  Obviously we both like bacon. 

You may be asking yourself, "Now, why wouldn't Corey try a bite of french toast?  Isn't she interested in all things brunch?"  My response goes way back to my childhood.  When our family was living in San Antonio, TX (the first house, not the second), I think I was around 4-6 years old, and Samantha (my other sister) and I were eating french toast for breakfast.  I think Erin was in her high chair somewhere making a mess.  One minute, I was just sitting at our blue plastic and laminate Fisher Price table, enjoying french toast.  The next minute, I had barfed my weight in french toast all over the Fisher Price table.  Ever since this day, I've never looked at french toast in the same way.  So don't expect me to review french toast in a brunch blog post from a firsthand experience, but you can assume I will occasionally dine with a french toast eater.

Note to Dad: I know I say I don't like waffles, pancakes, and french toast, but I do like your waffles I promise.

edit:  Erin is a recovering syrup addict.