Talls turned older recently (if he will let me record his old man voice I will happily put it up here. It’s my favorite fucking thing sometimes.) and while initially I had wanted to throw him an ice cream birthday party as that’s the food blog he would have, we ended up doing brunch instead. Oh no. Boo hoo. It’s so shitty things worked out this way.
I made a pile of food and everyone else either brought food, maple syrup, and juice. We were buried under a metric shit-ton of maple syrup and juice for weeks afterwards. Our friends are the best!
I will post the other foods in a second, but let’s all first marvel at the piece de resistance:
This was Talls’ birthday cake: layers of gigantic pancakes with homemade raspberry syrup and vanilla whipped cream that had goddamn flecks of vanilla bean in it. It’s creatrix is a semi-professional baker, and she did not balk at this assignment when I asked her to make this thing. She sat down and made this glorious pile of deliciousness, and then fed it to us. It was as tall as a fucking regular layer cake you guys. It arrived in a cake carrier. I couldn’t even, and I still can’t. This woman is the fucking best and the champion of the world.
And now for the regular food:

I made baked french toast and did not remember! Also a waffle maker was brought and I made batter so we had fresh waffles.

And last but not least, mystery meat (alligator as it turned out) and parfait. There was also bacon and sausage, but they were gone way too fast for photos.
We spread blankets on the grass and had a picnic with lots of people in our backyard. Everyone was well fed – especially my dog who snarfed a good amount of waffle when people weren’t looking.
In conclusion, I recommend throwing a fucking awesome brunch birthday party for the brunch companion in your life, and not looking for suggestions for it on Pinterest because you’ll feel like a non-glamorous ass otherwise.













