Brunch is called brunch so that for people like me, it is socially acceptable to get drunk in the middle of the day. One of my good friends treated me recently to the W Hotel’s new Sunday brunch and it was the most relaxing, comfortable, gluttonous brunch I’ve had in a long time.
I was suffering from ‘what I call’ a hang over, so the timing was perfect. We were treated to tartan slippers, bouncy sofas, efficient table service, cracking food, a live DJ (Anna Greenwood) and bottomless bloody Mary’s in the W Hotel’s beautiful monochrome W lounge.
Then a 3-tier selection of classic bunch serves –smoked salmon & cream cheese bagel (strong choice, a classic), Welsh Rarebit (sublime), salmon scotch egg (delicious), Caesar salad (sorry, why? This was most definitely the weakest of the three).
It’s a set menu, with bottomless bloody Marys or wine which is a must. Not drinking at brunch would be nothing but a sad, late breakfast…
Many of the other brunchers were attending baby showers or having a romantic jaunt, we were there to get shit faced, and we were perfectly happy with our seat in the situation!
You might think that I was full? No, next up: dessert. Dessert was an array of sweety jars with old fashioned popping candy, flying saucers, mini cookies and jelly beans. You fill up your little pink striped paper bags several times over, to finish off in style with an almighty sugar-high.
By this time, the hangover was well and truly forgotten about. Brunch is officially the king of weekend meals. Three hours went by before we waddled back out onto the streets, dazed and confused, with slightly tighter jeans.