Sarabeth's

[Robert Schonfeld]

For reasons far too complicated to relate, Mazal and I chose to have a quick late breakfast/brunch at Sarabeth's on Madison Avenue before going to the Joan Mitchell show at the Whitney (where there is also a Sarabeth's.)

The inserted Lunch menu, which listed a smoked salmon dish Mazal wanted, carried a notice that orders would be accepted beginning at 11:00 AM. It was 10:52 when our waitress took our order. She came back to our table with a look that conveyed fear of both the kitchen and the customer, saying "The kitchen will accept your order in eight minutes." We took this with uncharacteristic good humor. Sarabeth's at this hour on a Sunday is pandemonium. At precisely 11:00 AM, she came back to the table to tell us that the kitchen had begun the preparation of Mazal's order, which, btw, required no cooking. Less than two minutes later, it was on the table, along with my French Toast, which had been held under a heat lamp for the interval. (The French Toast, incidentally, was significanly lacking in egg-imparted moisture.)

There were at least two other brunch places visible from the door of Sarabeth's. Neither was doing any meaningful business at all, while Sarabeth's had a crowd waiting outside on the street. Must try one of the others next time.

[jaybee]

Every time I go to Sarabeth's on the upper west side, I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone.

It's like a magnet for midwestern blond girls in their twenties, and their parents who are visiting them in "the City." Remember the scene in Trading Places when Ackroyd goes to the tennis court to ask his soon to be erstwhile fiance for help? It's like, muffins for Muffy time.

[Felonius]

To heck with "Muffins for Muffie", Sarabeth's and the upper West side Sunday brunch scene is more like a yuppie combat zone. While waiting in line at the few places serving an edible breakfast on the UWS (Sarabeth's, Cafe Lalo, Good Enough to Eat and Popover's to name the main contenders) I have been insulted, cut in front of, nearly run over by moms with strollers, and generally treated like a prisoner of war. I once waited 30 minutes at Popover's until my turn was up to be seated - only to have four blond yuppie moms (who were several groups behind me in line) cut in front of me and pull a hip check and dash for the table that would have made an NHL hockey player proud.

This morning I made a rare excursion to Cafe Lalo (later in the afternoon so only a 20 minute wait), but in general I have given up the fight for brunch on the UWS. Only in NYC would someone wait an hour in line for pancakes, and give up all semblance of civility in the process. For all the rest of you brunch warriors, make sure to pack some quality reading materials and a set of brass knuckles before leaving the apartment at 11am next Sunday.

[Fat Guy]

Gotta love the eight-minute rule, no doubt enforced by a power-mad sous-chef. Dave Barry recently described such people as "kicked out of the Nazi party for being too anal retentive."

[Rail Paul]

I have been insulted, cut in front of, nearly run over by moms with strollers, and generally treated like a prisoner of war.

Strollers have become deadly weapons in certain hands. The larger versions should be equipped with turn signals, and the side by side models are more effective than a brick wall for blocking sidewalks.

I fully expect to see the next edition of Graco equipped with a sharply pointed ram on the front I'll prob notice it impaling my leg in Zabars

[Felonius]

And if brunch lines on the UWS are like a combat Zone, Zabar's after 5pm is like Armageddon. The female shoppers in that place could teach the Dallas Cowboys about offensive maneuvers. As a friend of mine born and raised in Brooklyn used to say "FUGGEDDABOUTIT".

[SobaAddict70]

Should a restaurant like Sarabeth's produce a great fillet of salmon? I'm not sure, but Sarabeth's produced one that wasn't even particularly good. Dry and devoid of flavor, it was an out-and-out disappointment, as was a side order of soggy fries.

We had a very satisfying mushroom risotto with Serrano ham and truffle oil, a pleasant salad of baby spinach and fried green tomatoes, and a letdown of a lobster salad, which had tough lobster.

Sarabeth's (Frank Bruni)

Related discussion regarding Mr. Bruni's style of reviewing and the star system can be found here.

Soba

[Moopheus]

Wow, I don't know about you, but just about the last thing I want for a weekend brunch is someone telling me the exact moment I get to order. That sort of thing makes me appreciate the friendly second-rate neighborhood diner.

[Megan Blocker]

Wow, I don't know about you, but just about the last thing I want for a weekend brunch is someone telling me the exact moment I get to order. That sort of thing makes me appreciate the friendly second-rate neighborhood diner.

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Welcome to brunch in New York, right? Particularly on the UWS, which turns into a stroller parking lot on Sundays. Literally. They actually HAVE stroller parking lots outside of E.J.'s and Good Enough to Eat - during the winter, at least. In summer, these spaces are used for sidewalk cafes, much to the chagrin, I'm sure, of many mommies and daddies.

I used to be an avid brunch-goer, but because of scenes like the ones above (power-hungry sous-chefs and aggressive yuppie-rents galore), I pretty much steer clear these days. Mostly I just head across the street to DT-UT for a cup of coffee and the paper, clearing out before noon, at which point that place, too, becomes land of the playdate.

Sarabeth's is a favorite of mine for actual weekday breakfast (good granola, yummy oatmeal), but you couldn't pay me to go in that place on a Sunday.