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Sunday Funday. As much as I would love for that phrase to become a reality each week, it doesn’t happen as often as you would think — especially during those cold, hibernation seasons. It’s just not as pleasant to bundle up and scurry home directly after hours of consuming mimosas and other delectable brunchy treats. I much prefer lazing about Union Square and perhaps wandering over to the West Village in search of gelato. The weather needs to be at least 70 degrees with ample amount of sunlight for that option to be viable — but that doesn’t mean we don’t sometimes try to make it happen.



I’ve talked about the joys of brunk at Barbounia. Just 2 Sundays past, however, D introduced me to the awesomeness of Regional. If you find yourself on Broadway between 98th & 99th do yourself a favor and stop in. White casks full of bottled wine, exposed brick, and rectangle pendant lamps cast the space in a chic, but down-to-earth light. The floor to ceiling windowed storefront brings in whatever light is outside, and adds to the comforting, cheerful interior. And really, unlimited mimosas for $6 are something you can’t really say no to. True, they’re not served in flutes — but they do their job well enough.



The food is quite yummy as well. Their brunch menu apparently can’t be found online — slightly perturbing considering that my photographic memory tends to go out of focus after 3 hours of bottomless mimosas. But I do know that my spinach & feta omelette — a classic choice amongst some potentially more fun menu options — really hit the spot. Full of feta and spinach, a side of crunchy toast, complemented nicely with yet another mimosa. It’s like home-cookin’ that you don’t have to clean up after.



Postbrunch wandering is pretty much a required activity. But, as I said, it needs to be 70+ degrees and sunny enough for me to legitimately bust out my sunglasses. This particular Sunday happened to be mostly rainy. Fortunately, D lives about 3 blocks from Regional, so we took advantage of a lull in the rain and/or the presence of our umbrellas to saunter down Broadway to his humble abode – and I busted out my sunglasses anyway. (They keep the rain out of my eyes. That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.)