Photo by Adriana Grant
Where: Costas Opa
3400 Fremont Ave. N., FREMONT
Time of Entry: Sunday, around 2 p.m.
Yes, two, and lucky for you potential grog-heads, brunch is Saturday and Sunday, 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. No unhappy wandering around at three in the afternoon, with a sour belly and no one to feed it.
Level of hangover: I admit it, minute.
Staff's level of hangover: Minimal. The servers were the rotating kind. One person seated us, another brought the water, and a third delivered the platters. At one point most of the staff was seated behind us, enjoying their own meal. But it was a happy bunch, and the hand-offs were efficiently executed.
Prescriptions: A Greek brunch is just what you might expect: The usual suspects, prepared with Greek standbys like feta, olives, and a touch of lemon. My dining companion ordered a Greek Benedict with tomatoes, onion, feta, and sliced olives (that last should have been a clue) served with potatoes, while I went for lamb souvlaki with three eggs. Nothing like a kebab for breakfast: a skewer of protein with a side of protein, and a fruit cup to balance it out.
Well, let's just say, the Greek potatoes (home fries touched with lemon) were the best thing on either plate. The Hollandaise tasted like it had been sitting on a back burner all day. The three eggs (sunny) had a viscous clear liquid surrounding the yolks, which, as my friend (a former brunch cook) remarked, might be dangerous. And I might not need to eat another black olive. Ever. These mushy, tin-flavored toruses are not Greek, but hail from the realm of the can.
Hair of the Dog: A Greek Sidecar in a tall glass. A near sweet drink of Mextaca brandy, tempered by lemon juice and triple sec. This well-mixed cocktail earned the bartender a few kudos.
Success of the Soak: Moderate to nil. I felt like I might (might!) have eaten better if I'd strayed from the Greeked-up menu.