Brunch used to be a wholesome meal spent with the family post-church—or, at least, a low-key hangover helper. But like so many things, once millennials got their mits on the sacred Sunday meal, it became something else—something less than great. Now, if you go to any restaurant, in any metro-area, between the hours of 12:00 p.m. and 3 p.m. on a Saturday or Sunday, you will experience a hedonistic hellscape of frenetic 20-somethings, manically cackling as they guzzle Champagne and Instagram their eggs benedict. The brunch of my youth—a casual weekend meal of quiet solitude and the Sunday New York Times—is dead. Here are the five ways that Generation Y forever ruined brunch.
Bottomless Boozy Brunch
Whoever decided to start serving bottomless Mimosas deserves to be banished from society. Now, brunch is as loaded as a Friday night party at a Sigma Nu frat house. You’ll find fountains of sparkling wine as sweet as straight sugar and drunken 22-year-olds dancing on tables. Word to the wise: If they’re charging you only $15 dollars for bottomless Mimosas, you’re not drinking Champagne—or particularly good orange juice.
This is why there’s a line two blocks long at my favorite brunch spot and I have to wait three and a half hours for a table at peak hours. Thanks to everyone Instagramming, Facebooking and Snapchatting photos of their perfectly coiffed friends enjoying brunch like it’s some decadent photo shoot in Bon Appetit, every schmuck home on the couch thinks to themselves, “Why am I home alone on a Sunday in my PJs? Why am I not at brunch?” Suddenly, a whole new group believes that if they brunch, their lives will be just as amazing as the people in their phones. And the line gets longer and longer and longer.
I don’t even understand why this is a thing—or how it came to be. But it is. Just to be clear, this is not some long-haired 30-something in all black spinning garage rock 45s and semi-danceable, eclectic doo-wop. This is some jacked-up bro in sunglasses and a tank top DJing EDM first thing in the morning. Vince or Brad or another muscle-bound bro is here to get paid to get people crunk, and to encourage people to buy a magnum of Champagne and pop some bottles.
Grain Bowls and Avocado Toast
Brunch is not supposed to be healthy. It’s supposed to take all the unhealthy, butter-slathered goodness of breakfast and mix it with even unhealthier lunch staples. If I want greasy, chorizo-filled breakfast burrito, a side of bacon, hashbrowns and a plate of nachos at 12 p.m.—brunch is here for me. Now, thanks to these healthy-ish 20-somethings obsessed with cleanses, the gym, smoothies and green things, my nasty, greastastic options are becoming more and more limited. My only hope is a worldwide avocado shortage—then the joke will be on them.
Brunch Is Now a Thing
Thanks to millennials, brunch is more than just a meal. It’s a thing. It’s a trend, a thing to do that defines who you are. People go to brunch like they’re going to church. They worship at the altar of bacon and bubbles. If millennials could erect a shrine to brunch, they would. There was even a BrunchCon, where people could co-mingle over their love of all things brunch, get super schwasty off cheap, crappy sparkling wine and, we assume, cosplay as waffles. Brunch is not comic books or even My Little Pony. It does not deserve a “con.” Oh well, at least I still have my old standby, the Bloody Mary. They couldn’t possibly ruin that. Wait, they put a whole chicken on it? With mini cheeseburgers? And lobster claws?! Nothing is sacred.