Posted May 30, 2023
We went to several different brunch spots over the long weekend, 2 of which were new to me (or their food was, at least). I remain convinced that the US simply values breakfast/brunch foods more and has a bigger variety and generally does brunch right, but Berlin at least has some nice spots where I can get a taste of a true brunch vibe š
Iām really pleased about finding that one of the brunch spots very close to our apartment, No Fire No Glory, is finally open again. It was closed for renovation for what felt like 2 whole years. It turns out that they make some absolutely delightful pumpkin pancakes, served with poached eggs, bacon, and maple syrup1. This was probably the best and brunchiest dish Iāve had in Europe, the only other major front-runner being a place that serves massively fluffy pancake stacks with a wide variety of add-ons and sauces. Iād still be happiest with a place that does legitimately good waffles, though.
Waffles > pancakes, 4ever.
Although I like to joke a bit about having back and neck issues due to my ripe old age (an incomprehensible 30), it has actually been my reality since I was freshly 20 and got hit by a car as a pedestrian while walking to my rented college home after class. Itās funny how an event that takes only seconds to actually occur can impact the rest of oneās life so profoundly. Iām thankful my injuries werenāt worse, but at the same time I sort of wonder ā if the car had hit just a little harder and broken a bone somewhere, would I have had better medical treatment, perhaps found a doctor I could get to know and trust, and brought up these problems as they arose in the weeks following? Would having a doctor look at this in closer connection to the incident have given me more answers and a better treatment plan, or would the findings still be a shoulder-shrug, we-donāt-know-the-cause-but-weāll-treat-the-symptoms type of situation? Living with unpredictable, difficult-to-treat chronic muscle spasms which lead to tension migraines is a frustrating experience. If I donāt catch one early enough, it can take me out for a few days. I really dislike having to leave the fate of my days to the whims of whatever angry deity has dominion over chronic pain.
I donāt necessarily mind talking about it, but I also donāt want people to waste any time feeling sorry for me. Their feeling bad doesnāt change anything, and only serves to makes me feel guilty for sharing info that is, indisputably, a total bummer.
This dish is called āThe Bombā, and it lives up to its name. ā©