Sunday morning, my friend Michael and I were up unreasonably early, both a bit hung over from the previous night’s french fries/mac n’ cheese/whisky-indulgence at Matchless in Greenpoint. He was feeling worn out from hovering over the fooze ball table all night, and I was my usual hungry self. In Los Angeles, we’d do greasy Sunday dimsum brunch, a bowl of pho or Mexican food. Of the three ideal scenarios, Mexican seemed the most doable in Brooklyn. We set out to eat at Taco Santana because let’s be honest—nothing helps a hangover better than a plate of cheese-laden chilaquiles drenched in spicy tomatillo salsa. A 45 minute walk later, we discovered that Taco Santana was closed. We clicked our heels and ended up at Whirlybird, a bite-sized cafe in South Williamsburg that’s known for its breakfast tacos (next best thing to chilaquiles). My taco came with scrambled eggs, chorizo, some kind of chipotle sauce, and crumbled jalapano chips. I was initially wary but I underestimated the power of the potato chip crunch. But it was a really delicious gringo taco, and definitely something I had to wash down with a slice of pecan pie from Pies n’ Thighs, which Michael and I ate curbside. It was that kind of Sunday.
Breakfast Pairing: Shabazz Palaces - “Are you..Can you..Were you..”