Dunno why, but every time we eat Sunday brunch at La Dolce Via (which is more than a few times a year), we act out the same sequence of events in the same order, la Groundhog Day
. First we drive around looking for a parking spot, marveling at how it's become harder and harder to find one, idiotically refusing to acknowledge that this area has become hot. Then we run over to the sidewalk seating and are puzzled to see that all of the tables are taken, because it seems the last time we were here we had no problem eating al fresco. We head inside and contemplate the brunch menu, scrawled across a dry-erase board, and after much deliberating and fretting, we settle on omelets (prepared with gourmet-quality ingredients), shared orders of pancakes (made with real sour cream in the batter), berries and cream (see "Best Indulgence"), coffee and fresh-squeezed juice. As always, after fighting over the last pancake we wind up ordering another round of 'em. We wave to chef Ramon Cuffie, thank him and tell him never to leave for Costa Rica like he keeps threatening to do. And like every time, when we leave we can't wait for the next time.