More pizzeria news: a new Neapolitan eatery and craft beer spot called Menomale is opening in Brookland. [Prince of Petworth]

We're No. 3! Ted's Bulletin has the third best brunch in the country. Guess there really is no shame in the Walk of Shame Burrito, after all. [Travel + Leisure]

The pop-up blows up: Señor Chicken's weekly ramen night is now six nights a week. New name, too: People's Noodles Bar. [DCist]

Takoma Park's Soupergirl thinks about expanding into less veggie-friendly territory [Eater DC]

A new eatery called Unum is moving into Georgetown's former Mendocino space. [Twitter, Dining Bisnow]

Expect more price hikes at restaurants this year.  Rising food costs mean operators will pass along the up-charges to you and me.  [Nation's Restaurant News via N.Y. Daily News]

Tiny but mighty popular wine bar Room 11 in Columbia Heights is trying something new this weekend: Sunday brunch.

"We've been wanting to do it for a long time," says chef and co-owner Ben Gilligan."But, logistically, it's a bit of a headache. It's hard for us to do it in the summer because I have one reach-in fridge and we basically turn stuff over four times a week. But [with brunch] you're dealing with a whole new menu, so suddenly you have to store 15 dozen eggs and all that good stuff. Now that it's winter, there's less use of the patio, which is the bulk of our seating. So it's something that we can handle a little easier. Hopefully, by the time the weather gets better, we're in a good rhythm so we can keep busting it out."

On the menu: among other things, Gilligan's playful take on green eggs and ham, priced at $10, featuring shaved speck and scrambled eggs rolled up into a sort of sliced crepe. The chef explains, "You make it like a really super thin omelet, almost like you're making a little crepe, and then you roll the egg crepe up and you slice it so it's almost like a fettuccine....It's really hard to do eggs to order in this kitchen. We have one eight-burner stove. So I have to be as creative as I can with the menu."

Interesting technique. But what would Sam I Am make of the whole thing?

Hungry for something else? Check out our handy Y&H food events calendar above and click on any link for more info. Got something tasty going on? Send event listings to hungry@washingtoncitypaper.com

In a recent interview with Young & Hungry correspondent Marcus Dowling, Bruner-Yang credited collaborator and U Hall co-owner Jesse Tittsworth with creating the concept in response to another eclectic D.C. meat-doughnut hybrid:

[Tittsworth] was at Birch & Barley/ChurchKey one day and he wanted the kitchen to make him a fried chicken-doughnut sandwich. They ended up putting it on their menu and not giving him any credit. So he's sort of reclaiming it with this.

Bruner-Yang was referring to the "Luther," ChurchKey's popular off-menu fried chicken and bacon served on a brioche doughnut glazed with maple chicken jus and sprinkled with candied pecans.

ChurchKey pastry chef Tiffany MacIsaac, meanwhile, describes the history of the "Luther" a bit differently.

"The 'Luther' was already a sandwich," MacIsaac tells Y&H. "We can’t take credit for putting the meat between the bun."

According to one account, the original sandwich, featuring a burger sandwiched between two slices of glazed doughnut, was created at Mulligan's Bar in Decatur, Ga. and named for late R&B crooner Luther Vandross, who reportedly enjoyed it. One health-food blogger somewhat humorously called it "the sandwich that killed Luther Vandross."

"We had always joked about how gross it was," MacIsaac says. "And that was kind of where it started."

According to MacIsaac, she and husband Kyle Bailey, ChurchKey's head chef, tried to come up with their own spin on the "Luther," using MacIsaac's signature homemade doughnuts and whatever else they had on the brunch line. They settled on the fried chicken used in Bailey's chicken and waffles dish, which also incorporated the maple-chicken jus and candied pecans.

"A couple of months later," MacIsaac says, "we had a customer who came in that was like, 'You guys should make a fried-chicken-on-a-doughnut sandwich' and we were like, 'Uh, as luck would have it, we already have that.' We didn’t put it on the menu for a long time because Kyle didn't know if people were going to like it. I mean, it’s delicious, but it’s so fatty. We put it on the menu upstairs as just a sort of if-you-know-about-it item. And then it totally blew up. It was crazy."

For his own part, Tittsworth confirms that he "specifically asked ChurchKey to put fried chicken on a doughnut," during a visit to the restaurant some time ago. And, after some "back-and-forth's with the kitchen via our server, was served what I asked for," he says. "I had the receipt on my fridge for quite some time and the creation was listed very unconventionally on it.  Also, it was served with a side salad!"

Yet, he takes issue with the purported connection between the two rival doughnut sandwiches: "The 'jelly belly' is much closer to a sweet barbecue bun that you find in dim sum," he notes, pointing Y&H to this link in particular.

"I don't feel that I need credit for anything," Tittsworth says, "but I'm not so big on misinformation."

Photo by Darrow Montgomery

• José Andrés’ Zaytinya begins its Greek Easter celebration on Sunday with a chef's tasting menu showcasing a " head-to-toe assortment of lamb dishes." The price is $105 for two people and ten courses; $55 per person for five courses. 701 9th Street NW
• Beacon Bar & Grill is hosting an Easter champagne brunch buffet. Price is $34.95 for adults, $14.95 for children under 12; 17th Street & Rhode Island Avenue NW
• 15ria is offering a pre-fixe Easter brunch from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m., featuring eggs Chesapeake, brioche french toast and grilled ham steak. 1515 Rhode Island Avenue NW

Photo by de:Freedom_Wizard/Creative Commons Attribution License

I opted for a new creation by the chef—an egg in the basket topped with fresh smoked salmon, Hollandaise sauce, and fresh herbs to sprinkle on top. You cut into the soft, fluffy bread, topped with Hollandaise and salmon and—surprise!—there’s a perfectly poached egg inside. The dish was inventive yet simple—and was absolutely delectable and satisfying.

[Bitches Who Brunch]

If the plate of "French toast" at Blue Duck Tavern looks more like a pair of cinnamon rolls conjoined at the hip, there's a reason. Chef Brian McBride developed this weekend special (no doubt in a subterranean laboratory with a hunchback assistant and lots of beakers overflowing with dry-ice clouds) by fusing a mall-court favorite with a brunch-menu staple.

McBride calls his creation "Baked Cinnamon Bun French Toast," and the monster sells for $15 a plate during the weekend brunch at Blue Duck. On first blush, the dish looks like something out of White Trash Cooking. (Step 1: Stop at Cinnabon and purchase sticky buns. Step 2: Smush them together. Step 3: Squeeze more sticky sweet icing over the top and/or maple syrup. Step 4: Watch game shows for rest of the day.)

But on closer inspection (and repeated tastings), Blue Duck's cinnamon bun French toast reveals its more subtle shades. For one thing, it is not loaded down with enough cinnamon and sugar to qualify for a federal subsidy. Its sweetness is tempered by the chopped candied pecans and the cream cheese icing, but even more telling is the dish's quiet nod to French toast. The kitchen produces the coiled buns first and then gives them a standard soak before baking them to a golden hue. The flavor of French toast bubbles just beneath the cinnamon surface, the unmistakable softness and richness of milk and eggs.

Still, regardless of the dish's finer points, eating a pair of cinnamon buns for brunch leaves you with this vague feeling that you have crossed an unholy line. You start to worry that you'll crave Rice Krispies Treats for dinner.

I'm exaggerating, but get this: When I spoke with our waiter about the French toast, he mentioned that the kitchen is close to rolling out a new version of the cinnamon bun-based dish. He said the new Blue Duck French toast will be based on house-made Krispy Kremes.

Brunch may have its haters, but there's clearly a contingent out there looking for more than the standard weekend blitz of Belgian waffles and three-cheese omelets. Readers tore into Scott Reitz's post on two off-beat brunch options as if they had been wandering the desert waiting for a message from on high.

Come to think of it, they sort of were wandering the desert. It was a desert filled with baby strollers.

Take a look at your Top 5 from last week:

1. The Passenger and Birch & Barley Silence My Standard Brunch Bitchings
2. Food News You Can Use: Panera Is Taking Over the World
3. CapMac Truck Makes Its Debut Today on Farragut Square
4. Changing Tables: Ba Bay and New IHOP Location Open
5. The Great Christmas Ale Is Coming
   

Weekend French Toast from Food52 on Vimeo.

Hey, it's the weekend, live a little. Inject a little dark rum into your French toast.

Take a good look at this glass of juice. Does it look orange to you? It should, because the last time I checked, orange juice was supposed to be, you know, orange.

But when I stopped by Columbia Firehouse recently for brunch, this is what they served when I asked for orange juice. It looks more like pineapple juice — mostly because the glass is loaded down with enough ice cubes to raise the Titanic. Lots of space-filling, OJ-extending ice cubes.

For this I paid $2.75?

Listen, I know there's a recession out there, and restaurants are hurting. I also know orange juice isn't cheap. My local Whole Foods sells a half-gallon of freshly squeezed organic orange juice for $5.49. That's real money.

But when I pay $2.75 for — what? — an eight-ounce pour of OJ, I want eight ounces of pure, unadulterated orange juice. I want a direct hit of Florida sun and soil as filtered through those orange balls of sweet-tart pulp. I don't want ice cubes.

When I see ice cubes in orange juice, I have two immediate thoughts: The orange juice will suck because it's watered down, and the restaurant is cheap, trying to extend its product at the expense of the product.

Now, I don't mean to pick on Columbia Firehouse. The rest of my brunch, particularly my steak and eggs with these succulent (if slightly overcooked) slices of Roseda Farms strip steak, was terrific. But really what's the excuse for watering down OJ?

I realize this is probably my little beef, and it doesn't bother the rest of you. But I was annoyed enough to express my disapproval via 140 fiery characters on Twitter: "Ice cubes do not belong in OJ. Makes me think restaurants are cheap, trying to stretch more glasses out of their oranges (or OJ cartons)."

One person responded to my outburst:

oh yes it does. i like everything cold

Well, here's an idea: Keep the OJ in the refrigerator.

It takes an act of sheer iron will (and perhaps stupidity) to bypass the classic Brussels waffle at Belga Cafe on Capitol Hill. That yeasty batter, cooked to a light and crispy turn in a waffle iron, doesn't need a river of syrup to provide its pleasures, only a sprinkling of powdered and brown sugars and a dollop of whipped cream. Believe it or not, I'm not suggesting you order that for brunch.

Instead, I'm suggesting that you order the gerookte zalm wafel ($11.95), which is savory, not sweet. The puff pastry, stuffed with smoked salmon, is baked first in an oven, then pressed in an iron to resemble a waffle, a visual trick-of-the-eye that, I suspect, fools only the young or the drunk.

But don't get hung up on the deeper meaning behind this sight gag. When paired with its accompanying chive cream, this "waffle" is like a Belgian version of that Jewish deli staple, lox and bagels, but with one notable exception:

Chef Bart Vandaele places his waffle on a drizzle of reduced balsamic, which gets absorbed by the puff pastry and adds an undeniable sweetness to this savory bite.  The balsamic takes the waffle to a whole new level of tastiness.