A lovely daytime, secret garden atmosphere that makes up for the otherwise ordinary food. Café Colette is a good spot to have stored in the books for brunch, but could be passed up for other meals of the day.
Every other weekend or so, the Manhattanite in me decides to venture out to one of those other boroughs for brunch. Just to, you know, see how the other half lives. Café Colette in Brooklyn is nothing short of a darling little corner tucked away on a street that at night is definitely home to illicit sales of free trade oregano. But as I was seated immediately without a reservation, I decided to put away a little bit of my borough bias and open my mind to a world where men love their ankles and where women love striped rompers from Toys R Us and breastfeeding in public.
In addition to my too-cool-for-Starbucks almond milk cappuccino with raw sugar cubes (because, wait for it, they don't carry skim), I ordered the breakfast sandwich with fried farm eggs, cheddar cheese, smoked paprika aioli, and bibb lettuce leaves. Each soft bite left a lot to be desired in the texture department, which surprised me in Brooklyn, where I assumed that chefs who seem to willingly dawn astroturf as a fashion accessory would know how to crisp up bread or fry the eggs to have a firmer and less oily consistency.
The poached eggs with roasted summer squash, fried brussels sprouts, and arugula were definitely the better brunch option, though there was nothing subtle about the onion cream on the side, whose drizzle of spicy oil could demolish any palette and did nothing to flatter the aroma of yellow onion. The rest of the menu reflects a consistently hearty and French-inspired cuisine, all cooked up decently well.
While it might not be the best brunch in Brooklyn, perhaps there is no such thing. Brooklyn is all about redefining these binaries, after all.