Jessai Flores

At Yale, having a little red sticker on your student ID will land you lobster ravioli, sirloin steak and an omelet bar one Sunday fall morning. This priceless sticker boasts a gules (translation: heraldic red) and chevron (translation: zig-zaggy stripes) crest with “ten crosses, paty silver.” It represents Berkeley College, home of the Thundercoqs (go Coqs, rise up) (yes, that is our cheer). Once a year Berkeley hosts Thunder Brunch, and it’s almost good enough to make living in L-Dub for a year worth it. Let’s go eat some Thunder Brunch. 

 

The Brunch opens at 11:00 a.m., but don’t be fooled: the event begins multiple hours before, when people begin to line up outside the entryway. And it’s important to note: Thunder Brunch is apparently cut-people-in-line-safe. You will get cut numerous times, and you will want to be extremely passive-aggressive to those that are cutting you. You will also then realize that you can’t be, because you are indeed saving a spot in line for your friend who will also be cutting. Oh well.

 

After much commotion, the Brunch begins. As I walked in, I was met by a real life Thundercoq. Well, a man-sized inflatable rooster would probably be a more accurate description, but I’m gonna stick with “real life Thundercoq.” Once I showed my precious Berkeley sticker and said my hellos to the Thundercoq, I think I started foaming at the mouth. Let’s take a walk through.

 

The brunch spread takes over both the common room and typical dining hall area. The first thing you see is a mimosa station (mockmosas, of course) with freshly squeezed orange juice. But you barely pay attention to this, for right past it lies tables and tables of fresh fruit and pastries. There is the normal cantaloupe and pineapple (except this pineapple has pieces cut in the shapes of Thundercocks), but there are also… wait for it… BERRIES!!! Yes, you heard me right. None of that sugar syrup-soaked berry crap, but the real, fresh stuff that you’ve been longing for. The raspberries and strawberries were gone within ten minutes. It turns out us Berkeleyites are berry feins. 

 

Next to this is an omelet bar. You will have to wait in another line. You will probably get skipped again (I did, and I’m still mad about it). But then you get to customize an omelet: mushrooms, cheddar, peppers, onions, spinach and tomatoes are all up for grabs. You have to make a decision: will you wait in this line first, or the dining hall line? There is strategy to this brunch. I opted for the omelet bar first, which had its pros and cons. Pros: I got an omelet before the line got absurdly long. Cons: unfortunately this meant that by the time I got to eat this masterpiece of a customized omelet, it wasn’t exactly the ideal temperature. But for an approaching-cold omelet, it hit the spot. I can only imagine how hard it would have hit if I didn’t have this unfortunate situation. 

 

Next, I approached the bagels and schmears from Olmo’s. I can’t lie, I was a little disappointed because I had heard that in past years they had served lox for the bagels. But I don’t really have a right to complain here. There was plain, scallion, and even pumpkin spice (?!) schmear. And let me tell you: Those. Bagels. SLAPPED. They had that yeasty, doughy, chew and that contrast of outer crust to inner softness that the dining hall bagels lack. But don’t get too distracted by this, because up next is…

 

Lobster ravioli and sirloin steak?! Did I mention the au poivre and, oh, the lobster?! The ravioli itself was your average, ricotta-filled ravioli situation, but it was doused in a “lobster base, shallot, garlic, tomato paste, white wine, heavy cream, lemon and parmesan” sauce. Do I wish I was given more lobster with my serving? Yes, yes I do. Can I actually complain? No, no I cannot. Right next to that whole situation was the roasted sirloin steak. Every 10 minutes or so I’d see them bring out a new, fresh-out-the-roaster hunk of meat, rack it, and slice it into delectable semi-thin red pieces. If you like your steak medium, well, we have multiple issues if that’s the case, but you wouldn’t have liked this bit. Your loss: it smacked. 

 

Berkeley’s regular hot food bar was heaping in piles of deliciousness. If I was to simply go down the line from tray to tray, I’d tell you that there were balsamic glazed brussel sprouts, smoked mushroom and lentil “country fried steaks,” chicken sausage links and scrambled eggs (ok this is less out of the norm), bacon, glazed cinnamon sugar challah french toast with blueberry compote, and a fried potato bar with roasted shallots, pepper relish, calabrian chili oil, cheddar cheese and sour cream to top it off with. And obviously these were perfectly baked sweet potatoes, not just some bland Yukon Gold situation. 

 

Once finally situated, plates-a-heaping, I dug in. Those sweet potatoes might have been the best things to have happened to me. They were practically caramelized, warm, and soft (but not disgustingly mushy). Another huge shoutout goes to the challah french toast done up with the blueberry compote — this was definitely too sweet to be consumed frequently, but the crisp of the challah with the fruity addition filled a void in my stomach I didn’t know needed filling. 

But I also discovered that unfortunately, it is a rite of passage to get yourself too much food; this was a pattern I saw everyone around me coming to terms with. Thunder Brunch is strictly a big-back event, and I was overjoyed to see my fellow Thundercoqs going for it (i.e., trying everything possible). But I think we all aspired a little too highly. There are only so many bites of your lobster ravioli and sirloin you can take post bagel, omelet and mushroom lentil country steak. Gosh, how hard it must be for us Berkeleyites.

NINA BODOW