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Brunch Isn't Just A Meal—It's A Way Back To Each Other

Brunch Isn't Just A Meal—It's A Way Back To Each Other

Forbes13-05-2025
For many American diners, brunch is part celebration, part indulgence—bottomless mimosas, Bloody Mary bars, stylish small plates, and rooftop views. It's a social ritual, equal parts escape and performance. But brunch can also be something quieter—mismatched plates. Toast shared over a kitchen counter. A slow pour of coffee while the light shifts across the floor. It doesn't always ask to be seen. It just asks to matter. Brunch holds both energies at once: the spectacle and the softness, the communal and the personal. And in a time when many are craving reconnection on their own terms, it's that quieter version that's starting to feel essential.
That shift—from brunch as performance to brunch as presence—has reshaped the way we host, cook, and show up for one another. And it's not just a vibe shift—it's backed by behavioral science.
Research from Oxford University shows that people who eat together more often feel happier and more connected to their communities. A 2023 study in the journal Appetite found that social isolation meaningfully alters eating behavior, often deepening emotional strain—while shared meals offer a protective effect. A 2021 NIH report confirms what many of us feel instinctively: regular, in-person connection strengthens health, reduces stress, and improves longevity.
It's why initiatives like Project Gather encourage small, no-pressure meals among friends and neighbors. And why former U.S. Surgeon General Dr. Vivek Murthy, now working through academic and public platforms, continues to championhuman connection as critical health infrastructure.
We don't need banquets or matching chairs. We just need each other. And maybe a decent cup of coffee.
Cookbook author and content creator Carolina Gelen recently hosted a strawberry-themed brunch shoot—a cozy, pink-swirled moment she built around a collaboration with Starbucks for National Brunch Month. She developed a strawberry latte using the brand's new iced double espresso capsule for Nespresso, pairing it with strawberry milk, homemade syrup, and leftover strawberry butter from the shoot. But the real magic didn't happen on camera.
'After the shoot, I had so much leftover—lattes, desserts, butter—so I invited friends over,' she said. 'Everyone stirred their own drinks and we just sat around, eating and talking. It was even better than the filming.'
That small moment—a casual post-shoot gathering—became its own ritual. And it reflects something much larger: brunch not as spectacle but as connective tissue. An opportunity to share something you made without pressure. To let people in without pretense. 'Sharing it just amplifies it,' Gelen told me. 'Even though I had fun creating the recipe, I really think you get to experience it at an exponential level when you're with other people.'
Brunch at home can feel like quiet rebellion against the emotional labor of traditional hosting. The pressure to create a curated, Instagram-ready table is giving way to something slower. Today, hosting is not about being the perfect host; it ismore about being a present one. It's not about proving you can do it all. It's about asking for help, letting things be imperfect, and still making space for people to come together.
Gelen's approach reflects that shift. 'I think making the experience enjoyable for the host is very important,' she told me. 'The last thing you want is to clock in for a 10-hour brunch shift.' Instead, she leans into a kind of joyful delegation. Let a guest refill the ice. Let someone else take dishes off the table. Turn the coffee bar into a DIY station. These aren't shortcuts—they're acts of care. They make space for everyone, including the host, to actually enjoy the moment.
According to KPMG's 2025 restaurant outlook, food and labor costs remain top concerns for industry leaders, and dine-in traffic has largely leveled off. In that context, new product innovation has less to do with novelty and more to do with meeting the moment. It reflects how many are reframing brunch—not as an event, but as a ritual. Not just a trend but a tether.
That's echoed in recent data from Tastewise, which shows that online mentions of brunch are down nearly 29% year-over-year. Perhaps the performative brunch is giving way to something quieter: snackable, plant-based plates and at-home hosting that centers comfort over curation. In a world of rising prices and content fatigue, the rituals that remain are the ones that make us feel more like ourselves.
Maybe that's what brunch really is in 2025. Not an event. Not a trend. But a lifeline. A low-stakes, high-comfort ritual that reminds us how to gather again—even if we're just starting with ourselves.
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Her dogs kept dying, and she got cancer. Then they tested her water.
Her dogs kept dying, and she got cancer. Then they tested her water.

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Her dogs kept dying, and she got cancer. Then they tested her water.

Her dogs kept dying, and she got cancer. Then they tested her water. ELKTON, Md. - Debbie Blankenship's wheelchair carved perfect lines in the grass as she rolled into her backyard garden, passing a wooden arch filled with small grapes, a bush with plump blueberries and yellow crates filled with sprouting potatoes. She stopped at a dirt patch with a burial marker for her beagle - the latest of her dogs to die of cancer. Subscribe to The Post Most newsletter for the most important and interesting stories from The Washington Post. 'They are all buried back here. It's like a pet cemetery,' she said, catching her breath from navigating the hilly terrain. Gazing at the burial site, she spoke about her own long battle with cancer. For decades, Blankenship chalked up her health problems, including losing her right leg to an infection, to bad luck. Then in 2023 she received a phone call from W.L. Gore & Associates, which makes waterproof membranes such as Gore-Tex and a host of other products. Gore wanted to test Blankenship's well water for PFOA, a highly toxic 'forever chemical' that was used to make PTFE, commonly known as Teflon. 'That's when the light went off,' she said. She and her dogs were the only members of the household to drink the well water. Her husband and children always drank bottled water. Gore's offer to test Blankenship's well came after a former employee named Stephen Sutton sued the company in 2022, claiming the company's negligent use of per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances, known as PFAS, harmed workers and the surrounding community. The litigation triggered a public water crisis: A class-action lawsuit was filed the following year, and Maryland filed suit in 2024. These stable chemical compounds tend to persist indefinitely in the environment, as well as in the human body. They have been linked to serious health problems including high cholesterol, cardiovascular disease, infertility, low birth weight and certain cancers. The lawsuits claim that the company knew for decades that its use of these chemicals endangered public health and the environment but hid that fact from the state and the nearby community. Gore has denied concealing information about the presence of PFOA in its materials or any potential risks. Maryland's Department of the Environment and Cecil County declined to comment, citing the pending litigation. In a statement made when the state filed its lawsuit, Maryland Attorney General Anthony G. Brown (D) said, 'It is unacceptable for any company to knowingly contaminate our drinking water with these toxins, putting Marylanders at risk of severe health conditions.' Gore said in a statement that it has never manufactured PFOA and that only 'trace levels' were present in raw materials purchased from suppliers. The company said all its vendors must now certify their materials are made without it. 'We dispute the allegations in the lawsuit filed by the State of Maryland and deny the allegations in the Sutton matter,' said Amy Calhoun, a spokeswoman for Gore. - - - Poisoned wells Gore has helped anchor Elkton's economy for more than 50 years. The privately held company, based in Delaware, operates 14 facilities in and around Cecil County. It reports $5 billion in revenue, employs more than 3,100 residents and has created a deep relationship with the community. A wooden sign near the entrance of Kenmore Elementary School reads: 'In partnership with W.L. Gore & Associates.' A thin line of trees is the only barrier separating the school from Gore's Cherry Hill facility, where PTFE was received in powder form and transformed into products. Blankenship's husband, Richard, who suffers from Alzheimer's, worked at Gore for nearly 40 years. Water samples taken from Blankenship's well in May 2023 showed PFOA concentrations of 3.4 parts per trillion (ppt), according to documents reviewed by The Washington Post, below the Environmental Protection Agency's maximum contaminate level of 4 ppt. However, the agency has said that there is no safe level of exposure and that small amounts of the chemical can cause serious health impacts, including cancer. Other well water samples from Blankenship's neighbors across the street from Gore's Cherry Hill site revealed PFOA concentrations as high as 800 ppt, according to tests conducted throughout 2023 by Gore and the Maryland Department of the Environment. Groundwater samples from the site were as high as 1,300 ppt. Monitoring wells near Gore's Fair Hill site contained concentrations of 1,800 ppt, while a nearby stream had PFOA concentrations of 740 ppt. Gore's Calhoun acknowledged 'some isolated numbers' at high concentrations in well water but said the impact on groundwater at the Cherry Hill facility was 'limited.' 'We do know now that a limited amount of PFOA has been released as part of our historic operations and in concentrations that by today's standards are higher than acceptable,' she said. 'Most importantly, Gore is committed to addressing the issue.' The scope of the contamination from Gore's facilities is not yet known. Sutton alleges in his suit that Gore knew by the late 1980s, through its own groundwater testing, that pollution from its Cherry Hill plant could travel to neighboring properties. Philip Federico, an attorney at Brockstedt Mandalas Federico who represents Elkton residents, said in a statement that the firm filed suit because Gore knew about the risks of PFAS for four decades and continued dumping toxic chemicals into the community. 'Today, both the residents and agricultural interests of these communities are dealing with the life-altering consequences of PFAS exposure, including cancer, reproductive and fertility challenges, developmental delays, hypertension, and more,' Federico said. Gore said it eliminated PFOA from its supply chain in 2014. DuPont and other manufacturers agreed to phase out the chemical in the United States by 2015 under a voluntary agreement with the EPA. In recent years, the chemical industry has reached large settlements with states and local communities over PFAS contamination of public water supplies. The EPA estimates that more than 158 million Americans are exposed to PFAS through their drinking water. Unlike water from public water utilities, private wells are not subject to federal water regulations. Gore offered Blankenship and other residents within sampling areas around its facilities the choice of filtering their well water or connecting their homes to the local water utility. The company said it has installed 84 filtration systems and connected 13 homes to the utility. While Blankenship is waiting for the county hookup, she is drinking bottled water provided by Gore and uses rainwater in her garden. Linda Birnbaum, a former director of the National Institute of Environmental Health Sciences, said that based on the water sample results near the Cherry Hill plant, many of the nearby wells should be capped and closed because 'it would be very difficult to clean them up.' 'If this was a public water supply, those would have to be remediated,' she said. 'In many of the wells, their levels of PFOA are of concern.' - - - Chemical dreams Mark Strickler, 68, who moved to Cherry Hill after landing a job at Gore more than 40 years ago, said he sometimes dreams he is back on the production line. That is where he used to scoop up white PTFE powder and mix it with graphite and other materials to make fibers for industrial weaving applications and products such as dental floss. He said he was told by his supervisor that the chemicals were safe. He recalled some 'pretty nasty' times, when the odor from the chemicals gave him headaches or the PFAS-soaked scrap material would leave his hands numb for half an hour. Even so, Strickler said he recalls his time at Gore with fondness. Then he wakes up to a harsh reality of the drinking-water contamination in his community. 'It was a surprise to me,' Strickler said. 'I'm disappointed in the company for polluting, when I thought they were more concerned about the culture of the company.' Despite his disappointment, Strickler said he considers Gore a good employer. After an aneurysm years ago, a graft created by Gore was inserted in his heart during one of his five heart operations, three of which required him to be 'cut open like a lobster.' Blankenship, who wakes up in pain that she can only compare to that of childbirth, praised Gore even though she believes the company's operations could have contributed to her health problems. 'They've taken care of us. They were good to us. They're good to their employees,' she said. Richard was still working at the company when they heard about the class-action lawsuit. Last month marked the couple's 49th wedding anniversary. Instead of treating her illnesses in the hospital, she wanted to spend whatever time she has left at home with her husband. 'I'm tired of my body being invaded by tests and needles,' she said, sitting in a wheelchair on her porch. 'I'm just tired of battling, so I'll take my chances. I've laid it all on Jesus' feet.' Now she makes sure her dog drinks only from the three-gallon water jugs Gore delivers every month, saying she was determined to end the cycle. 'It was really too late,' Blankenship said. 'That's why I said the next dog we got, she will never drink the water.' Related Content Ukraine scrambles to roll back Russian eastern advance as summit takes place Her dogs kept dying, and she got cancer. Then they tested her water. D.C.'s homeless begin to see the effects of Trump's crackdown Solve the daily Crossword

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