One of my favorite reasons to cross the bridge into BK is brunch. While the force of human traffic seems to be traveling in the opposite direction on a Sunday afternoon what with the masses on B&Ters trekking into the city to spend money and block sidewalks, I prefer to head for the land of brownstones and wide, leafy streets. I met my friend, Severine, at Flatbush Farm this past weekend, where we dug into a Toad in the Hole made with thick, crusty bread, cheesy grits and some of the heartiest bacon I've ever laid eyes or tongue on. There's something decadent yet rural and exotic about such a large, airy space that manages to feel empty even when all the tables are full. Sometimes I have to make the trip over the bridge just to breathe a little with my mid-afternoon bacon.
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