This here chowder has a slap-ya-booty punch of smoked paprika so grande, you won’t even believe what’s happening to your body, much less your miiiieeeeennnnddd.
I have to admit I've never understood the popularity of the "Sunday brunch" at otherwise decent restaurants—the lines are ridiculous, the food often subpar, and you know as well as me the waitstaff have plenty of better things to do (like nurse their own hangover). My indifference to this cultural phenomenon doesn't mean I don't love a pile of pancakes and a fried egg or two; it's just that I prefer them from the comfort of my own home.
