Doug Hamlin

1126 days ago

And God, the brunch, the brunch. The phone hauled out for every single pancake and every single Bloody Mary to be photographed and Instagrammed. That guy who strolls in and won’t remove his sunglasses as he holds up two fingers at my hostess without saying a word: He wants a table for two. The purebred lap dogs now passed off as service animals to calm the anxieties that might arise from eating eggs Benedict on a Sunday afternoon. I want the girl who called the first day of our mandated shut down to call back, in however many months when restaurants are allowed to reopen, so I can tell her with delight and sincerity: No. We are not open for brunch. There is no more brunch.

My Restaurant Was My Life for 20 Years. Does the World Need It Anymore?

nytimes.com

I’m Gabrielle Hamilton, and I’m the chef and owner of Prune Restaurant in the East Village of Manhattan, New York. I was the chef and owner of Prune Restaurant. Should I? I don’t know whether to be in the present or past, and it’s in itself confusing. OK.