Brunching with the girls

Our house is right opposite to a much-celebrated breakfast cafe thronged by hip, jean-clad-goggle-wearing spirited youngsters on weekends. Located in a posh neighborhood in the center of the city, it attracts people from the remotest corners. My friends have travelled 20 Kms and gladly stood by the street until the cafe opened- just to bite into the juicy burgers, relish the maple-syrup-dripping-pancakes and drown in the whipped-cream-loaded-waffles.


After a year of peeping through the windows and stealing stealthy glances at fashionable people patiently waiting in the hot sun for a table, we decided to find out what the big deal about this place was.

The smart folks that we were, we cleverly planned of beating the afternoon crowd by going in as early as 8 am. After multiple failed attempts at waking up 3 sleepy/grumpy girls on a Sunday morning, I was hoping to atleast join the afternoon crowd. We finally crossed the street and made it to the coveted place at 1 pm and to our table at 2 pm.

It was a quaint little bungalow with a small garden and colorful pots that had been converted into the present American cafe with an old world charm. The wall was painted bright yellow and adorned with American pop star caricatures, movie posters and cute food phrases in colored chalk.A winding wooden stairway led to the terrace dining area. Our table was near the garden beside an attractive wind chime dancing to the soft tunes of the warm afternoon breeze and glowing in the smooth sunlight streaming in.


After ordering waffles, pancakes and burgers, we settled into our girly gossips of who-is-wearing-what and whose-colleagues-are-nastier.

The waffles arrived and everyone fished out their phones and started clicking away merrily. In the flurry of activity that followed, a water glass toppled over the burger and a maelstrom erupted with 4 pairs of hands frantically grabbing tissues and stopping the water drifting over the table, while the waiter rushed over to help us.

By this time, the entire restaurant was looking in our direction, wondering what the fiasco was. We were red-faced with embarrassment. Then, one of us started laughing at the scene we had just created. Laughter erupted with people recounting accounts of personal embarrassment – from dropping cutlery at a 5-star hotel to wardrobe malfunction during a vacation, each of us had our fair share of embarrassments.

We devoured on gossips and feasted on the food. As I looked around at the girls dropping sauce on their jeans, struggling to handle the knives-forks, stuffing their mouths with food messily, testing maple syrup’s adhesive capabilities and complaining to the waiter about the quantity, I felt oddly at ease. Here was a bunch that didn’t throw airs, act sophisticated but danced in pajamas and face-packs and made sure we had a good time. I walked out, glad that I was part of this happy-silly goofball club.

(P.S. This is the wily(and delicious!) mango-cream waffle that resulted in the toppling of the hapless water glass)