When people say, “Let’s meet for brunch this weekend,” I usually pass. In general I’m pretty punctual for appointments but on the weekend, I just can’t do it. There’s no weekend buzz killer than having to set the alarm clock even if it means going somewhere to eat. But when the invitation is, “Let’s have brunch at my place,” that changes the game altogether. There’s no rush to arrive on time so that everyone gets seated at once and you know that there will always be a big pot of coffee waiting for you as soon as you walk in.

This weekend was my turn to invite people over for brunch. However, since the weather forecast said it would be a beautiful day in Paris and my friends Jeremy and Florent have a rooftop terrace in the 6eme, they were hosting and I was cooking at their place.

On the few occasions that I’ve cooked a dead simple brunch for my French friends, they’re really impressed and the remarks are generally the same: “Oh la la, we’re having a real American breakfast!” or “Just like in the U.S.!” I’m not sure if they mean that an American is cooking them breakfast or what I serve is something you would find at Denny’s, making this an authentic experience for them.

We had eggs, bacon, sausage, home fries, whole wheat toast, a green salad and a fruit salad. I was still reveling in my Belgian waffle kick from a week ago so we had gaufres with Nutella. Someone also brought a strawberry shortcake so we had two dessert sessions.

On the rooftop, the sun was shining, we had a spectacular 360-degree view of Paris and there wasn’t any city noise around us at all.

Can I also mention that we were eating for four and a half hours? I think that might be setting a record.

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