I have lived in Portland, OR since 2003, which means that brunch is something I take very seriously. In many ways, Portlandia’s brunch village isn’t out of line; we will waste hours waiting for local berries to be thrown in some flapjacks. Sincerely, I can only manifest any interest in the gym if I tell my body we are just just going to gently walk and watch Bones reruns, but I will stand in the rain, sipping out of a rapidly cooling coffee mug, surrounded by irritating strangers for two hours just to walk into a restaurant on Sunday morning. Who can pass up the opportunity to do some socially sanctioned day drinking and to engage in the eternal dilemma of pancakes vs. eggs Florentine. Okay, generally the eggs win, and I know the eggs are going to win because hollandaise is the most delicious sauce ever (at the very least, it’s the hands down winner among the stupid the French haute cuisine mother sauce pack).
If this was an article about the best brunch spots in Portland, I could write that without any outside help (partially because it would give me an excuse to fact check by going to more brunches). Sadly, the man is keeping me down by refusing to finance a nationwide brunch tour. It may be because there is an outside risk of my getting too hopped up on coffee in line before attempting to level out with multiple red snappers (bloody Marys made with gin; get on my level). This stimulant/depressant game often leads to open weeping when I find out the restaurant is out of sourdough pancakes and management has decided this isn’t the look they want for Uproxx Life. Go figure.
Today, as an alternative to debauchery and poached eggs with Alia, you get a listing of the best brunch spots according to friendly, famous chefs. For some of them, brunch means an extravagant array of high end foodstuffs; for others, it’s a neighborhood joint with a good vibe and a short walk home. Read through the responses, check out the pictures of tomato juice and booze, and tell me in the comments about the best brunch you’ve ever had. Seriously, guys, let me live vicariously through your mid-morning meals. I am still socially isolated after that whole sandwich thing. I get lonely.