Chicago Brunch. Best meal of 2012.

That's not an overstatement.

For years, I have been reading about The Publican. I have literally had that website bookmarked for years. When we decided to Sunday Brunch before heading back to Michigan, I knew where I wanted to go. We got a reservation and I was quiet with excitement as our cab made it way across town, laden with our huge Vera Bradley duffel bags (I like the bright colors, ok?) and huge asses after gorging ourselves on hot dogs and cupcakes (see below.)

We got to The Publican quite a bit early for our 11:00 reservation and waited at a standing bar where we could stare at the plates being served to other diners. We ordered coffees, mimosas, and after I started shouting out things like "the pork rinds are supposed to be incredible!", we ordered the pork rinds. Misstep. I don't know if I'm missing something, but these things were like giant, super-crunchy Cheetos. We also ordered the pub pretzel with pimento cheese, because Miss Kitty went to school in the South and couldn't resist.

I had never had pimento cheese. It was good. I would eat it again.

The rest of our party rolled in and we were seated at long tables shoulder-to-shoulder with strangers. I love it, so I can stare at their food, their baby, their eyeglasses, whatever catches my eye. And I can listen to their jacked-up conversations, like the dapper man next to me telling his son that Obama is going to blow the general election by making voters think that if they don't vote for him, they're racist.

Ok. OR MAYBE THEY ARE REALLY RACIST.

I couldn't concentrate on sending hate vibes his way, though, because I was too excited with the prospect of my red wine poached eggs. I love eggs. No, I LOVE them. You don't understand. And I never order them poached, because when I'm confronted with an overly-poached yolk, I lose my patience. I knew that they would be perfect at The Publican, and I was dying.

Look at those little beauties. Atop grilled bread, with hollandaise (so lemony) and alongside a little salad and prosciutto. I don't think I have ever before willed my stomach to stretch in order to accommodate the last bites of my meal. This was, without a doubt, the best meal I have had this year. If you find yourself at The Publican, order this. If you know how to make this, come to my house. I will make you some cupcakes, serve as surrogate, whatever you want.

I also ordered the ricotta and zucchini bread, which that week came with mint, blackberries, and honey, for sharesies with the table. The texture was awesome- it was light and sweet and you could really taste the honey.

I slathered the ricotta like whipped cream.

I drove around Chicago a few days after this trip and looked up The Publican's hours so I could try to sneak in a quick lunch. Sadly, my schedule wouldn't allow for it. Mark my words, I will return before the end of the year. And I will bring my Thanksgiving eating pants.