The Saturday morning negotiation always goes the same way. Somewhere good, but not a two-hour wait. Something worth getting dressed for, but not a production. Food that’s actually interesting, not just brunch-shaped objects on a plate.
That’s the real standard for brunch reservations in NYC — not the most hyped spot, not the longest line, but the table you’re still sitting at an hour after you planned to leave because nobody wants to go yet.
