The Truth About Brunch and Why I Hate it.

“Brunch” is bullshit. Yeah, I said it.

I’ve talked to countless pro-brunch individuals, all of whom you would swear were ambassadors of the Council of Brunch, and gathered my intel about this seemingly recent fad-nomenon. Each have tried their hand to sway my opinion, citing the merriment, grandeur, and limitlessness — mostly of the mimosa variety — of “brunch” (I use quotes because I refuse to recognize this as a proper mealtime). No argument posed has provided evidence or uniform theoretical doctrine to prove just what makes “brunch” brunch. If this debate were to grace a court of law, the jury would not be swayed beyond a shadow of a doubt.

A farce in motion.

In my eyes, the concept of “brunch” can be boiled down to two points of desirability — pretension and daytime turn up. Before you roll your eyes and ‘x’ out of this blog, hear me out.


At our core, everyone wants to live in the world Baz Luhrmann crafted via Gatsby, even if just for a few hours. We all want to live it up in the lap of luxury, where avocado toast costs approximately half of your rent, and for some reason, you don’t care! You’re at “brunch,” damnit! You deserve this $14 eggs benedict with under-seasoned potato medley, and $5 bottle of Topo Chico, which you’re convinced you’ve just discovered and is a hidden gem of the carbonated water world. The decadence of paying for an underwhelming experience is what we all long for. Why deny yourself any longer? Indulge in your income bracket — right?

Daytime Turn-up:

I guess I get it. It’s fun to buck the taboo nature of heavy daytime drinking. Aside from July 4th, when is it socially acceptable to swap your mouthwash for champagne? You can literally roll out of bed and pour yourself a glass of bubbly with no questions asked, all in the name of “brunch!” You don’t even have to cut it with the orange juice on the counter, because hell, there are no rules of brunch. Let anarchy reign.

But aside from that, why call it “brunch?” You’re not fooling anyone. This is no simple hybrid of breakfast and lunch — the real mealtime heroes. I’ve had one ambassador tell me, “brunch is so great because you can eat lunch foods for breakfast — just with a Bloody Mary!” Look, you’re not eating chicken fried steak at 10am. It’s just not happening. Without fail, you always choose something with an egg and/or waffle, and that’s the extent of it. I’ve also never seen anyone choose a salad option for “brunch.” But take a health-conscious gal to lunch? 9/10 times she’s getting a salad. This is literally just an excuse for you to drink alcohol in the morning. If you want to start drinking at breakfast time, just own up to it.

“There are no rules of brunch. Let anarchy reign.”

Why label this experience as if it were common practice? Giving it a name like “brunch” implies this asinine practice of excess should be a recurring discipline in everyone’s lives. I don’t think I heard the word “brunch” until junior year of college, let alone gone to one. I’m sure this is a practice in which country clubbers and high society have indulged for decades. Now it’s trickled down to the Yuppies and college-aged demographics with any sort of disposable income — and truly, all I want is for people to stop talking about it. If “brunch” is this out of hand now, what’s next? Linner? Dinfast? A sullied snack time?

That’s this humble American’s perspective. So, save your hatemail — because I really don’t care.

Proper mealtimes:

Breakfast: 5:30am — 11:30 am
Lunch: 11:30am — 5pm (*3pm)
Dinner: 5pm — 10pm (*6pm)
*Supper: 6pm — 10pm

*True, Deep South times.