Brunch at Moto began with a fine-ground coffee and flat donut, and proceeded to an arrayed 'Turkish' breakfast of radishes, olives, figs, cucumbers, tomatoes, feta, sopressata. The milieu was vaguely steampunk, vaguely speakeasy, vaguely vintage motorcycle. Shortly before, across town, we had wonderful pancakes and ur-coffee. If breakfast is the most important meal of the day, it makes no sense to stop at one. The careful man girds himself with a support network of breakfasts.
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