I’m one of those unlucky souls with only one day off a week. When not in Westchester, commuting, writing or bartending, I don’t usually have the luxury of taking time for myself to, ya know, do stuff.
This isn’t to say I find it impossible, just exceedingly difficult.
Surprisingly, between an upcoming work conference and a move from Harlem to Queens, I found a few Saturday hours with the bf in one of our favorite areas of Brooklyn, Fort Greene.
Tree-lined with BK’s iconic brownstones, Fort Greene is a picturesque ‘hood with a ton of shops, restaurants and bars within a few blocks, great for a meandering weekend’s exploration. It’s one of our favorite ‘hoods for a reason: the Brooklyn Academy of Music (BAM), host to a grip of world class culture and art house films, anchors the neighborhood, called home for creative urban-types. The sloping, arboreal oasis of Fort Greene Park and the bustle of restaurants off the main thoroughfares don’t hurt, either.
We planned to meet at the at General Greene, where we’d only enjoyed a cocktail once before. Between packing up our respective apartments and rumbling morning tummies, brunch was clearly required.
I timed it so I’d be a bit early, which always warrants a leisurely stroll through the area. Walking down Dekalb (hell, any street) is almost like walking onto a movie backlot, except all of the details are just right, sans typical H-wood touches of forced authenticity. Everyone is just doin’ their thing: runners through the park, kids playing ball, young (exceedingly/frustratingly attractive) parents taking their kids out, neighbors of all ilk selling wares from their stoops while blasting Whitney Houston… Fort Greene’s got it.
General Greene is a great stop for a quiet afternoon drink, or in this case, a leisurely brunch. Order the housemade lemonade with a shot of jalapeño Tequila. You won’t hate it.
The bf ordered the biscuits and gravy, a cast iron pan’s worth of buttermilk biscuit drowning in a savory sausage gravy and topped with two eggs. I opted for the Greene Eggs and Ham, which did not have the de rigeur pesto this dish often comes with. The poached eggs maintained that delicate balance of runny orange yolk that is not overcooked but miraculously exists between solid and liquid states. That flavor-noise was served atop a buttery (albeit not hot) biscuit and fatty ham with requisite hollandaise. Oh, and let’s not forget the side of fried green tomatoes.
Allz I gotz to say is: Show me a person who hates brunch food and I’ll show you a liar.
General Greene | Brooklyn | 229 Dekalb Ave. at Clermont