BRUNCH bums: Black Bear

RER 4.28.13

What a delicious tradition— Sunday brunch with some of my favorite girls (though next time, I hope even more of my favorite ladies come out to play), lingering over brunch treats with sweet bubbly mimosas and random girl talk. A tradition created on the foundation of a meal, the most leisurely of meals, that meanders between breakfast and eggs, and lunch and salads. Brunch is a space for down-time and enjoyment, friendship and confused food. Sometimes, brunch is an event, a moment to see and be seen. And sometimes brunch is a hangover cure, a way to both recall and forget the night before.

This Sunday, brunch was meant for girl talk and seeing friends I do not see nearly enough. It required some waiting though, for an outdoor table to relish the sunshine at the bar and eatery Black Bear in Hoboken, and for the third friend running late in Sunday traffic.

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Brunch time in Hoboken often leads to running into other friends and acquaintances, old classmates or otherwise, people you never remember live in the same town but move in different circles perhaps. And when the weather is sunny and mild, the likelihood increases, and so does wait time.

But our wait was filled with chatting to unexpected friends on the street and $2 mimosas at the large loud bar just down the street, 1Republik. The brunchy drinks were sheer with the champagne to orange juice ratio. The bubbles stifled our hunger but raised our voices and made the time move faster. And finally with a few sips to go, we got the call and our tables down the street was ours and ready.

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I had only been to Black Bear a few times to check out the nightlife, including a DJ and drink specials, but this was my first time in the afternoon for brunch. Walking passed I would always see people sitting outside, chatting over large plates and sipping colorful drinks. This was our party on Sunday, soaking up the sun and champagne.

Ravenous, we ordered some fries and mozzarella sticks, and more mimosas to start us off, even before attempting to thoroughly examining the bar menu. We were thankful when the waitress put the mimosas on the table, though these were sweeter and heavier with orange juice. And the snacks were a brilliant idea, though generic.

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One friend ordered steak and eggs (with her eggs over hard… is that at thing?),  the other got french toast, and I wanted to play with the big boys, so I asked for the special burger of the day. Everything looked nice enough, just generic and typical, nothing extremely creative or stultifying. I was politely reminded that it was “bar food.” My burger was topped with a round of ham, bacon, a fried egg, onion rings and a tangy spicy bbq sauce called firecracker sauce. Our server asked how I wanted my burger cooked, but it came to me well done. No biggie, all the toppings and sauce made a well done burger less difficult to eat. My fried egg was too, well done, which actually disappointed me. I was dreaming of that yellow yolk running over the pork products and the beef, spilling on my plate and being sopped up by superfluous french fries. This was a delicious dream, but not on my plate. Despite it all, I ate everything, and proceeded to eat my friend’s french toast, and eye my other friend’s oniony hash browns.

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All in all, it was not about the food or the delicious mimosas (well maybe those), it was about catching up with close and old friends, closing the gap between us, and creating a tradition we plan to adhere to. It was about reminiscing and future planning, laughing out loud and probably being too loud. I am so looking forward our next brunch, basking in the sun, sitting at wobbly outdoor tables because of  uneven pavement, and spending too much time indulging in too much food and fun.

RER

4.29.13

RER 4.28.13