Hot take: The internet is full of opportunities for you to compare yourself to others and come up short. Especially if you are a woman. If you’re a mom, your Facebook feed is probably full of quotes from your friends’ angel-faced children like, “I love mommy so much! When I grow up, I want to be a doctor/lawyer/social media influencer just like her!” Meanwhile, your little angle interrupts your scrolling to tell you: “I wish I had no mommy like Princess Elsa and when I grow up, I want to be a transformer!” If you’re single, your Instagram is probably clogged with pictures of slender ring-fingers adorned with diamonds the size of Lima beans. The captions read, “I’m so lucky to be engaged to this wonderful man! Boy, I thought I was doing OK when I was single, but that was before he made me realize what a shriveled husk of a person I was! Love fixes everything!” Meanwhile, you’ve just given up on constructing your OK Cupid profile (for the third time) so that you could check Tumblr for the next chapter in a fanfic about if Pride and Prejudice was about Mulder and Scully. (Theoretically. I have heard some grown, single women do this.)

But there is another way the internet is making a lot of women feel insecure that no one is talking about. Except me. Today, I’m going to admit to something that many of us have been afraid to say out loud for too long: I’m stressed about brunch.

Really, I’m stressed about hosting parties in general. But the stress is more acute with brunch because, apparently, brunch is supposed to be laid back. If the food blogs I read are to be believed, A brunch hostess is just supposed to roll out of bed on the morning of her party and into a dinning room full of champagne, rich dough and laughter. This has never been my experience. I wake up on brunch morning and stagger into a kitchen full of carcinogenic fumes and panic.

I like hosting, but it takes work. The myth of the effortless brunch invalidates all the effort I go to to give my friends an excuse to drink vodka before noon. It erases hours of rolling out pie crusts and hulling strawberries. And it makes every woman who’s ever broken a sweat over a skillet of gluey hash browns feel like there’s something wrong with her.

Look, maybe none of this resonates with you. Maybe you’re some kind of “normal person” with bigger concerns. Maybe, if you overbake your scones, it doesn’t affect your self worth at all. If so, you may go back to playing Bananagrams and tweeting about…I don’t know, Coldplay? (Sorry, I lost track of “normal” sometime in the late 2000’s). But if you’re anything like me, and the looming shadow of the effortless brunch is making you feel inadequate too, read on. I am going to go through “how to throw an effortless brunch party” step-by-step, as directed by various online food writers. Then, I’m going to tell you exactly how much effort it takes me to complete each step. It won’t make brunch seem any easier – probably the opposite, actually. But it will at least deflate the myth a little. And it will assure you that, if brunch doesn’t come naturally to you, you are not alone.

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Step one: Create a guest list

The effortless method

There isn’t much guidance for this online. Most writers just tell you not to stress about it too much. “Open house” style parties – where everyone is welcome to come and go whenever they want – seem popular with especially chill hosts. I read a play-by-play of one “gathering” on the Kitchn where the hostess said she just invited about 30-40 people and told them not to worry about RSVP-ing. She was a little worried about how her different friend-groups would mix but guess what? She wound up with a cool, random combo of people and a lot of interesting conversation!

My method

I begin stressing immediately. I would have a hard time naming 30 television characters, let alone people I trust in my home. (There’s a lot of Muppet memorabilia in there you guys!) I start with two or three people who owe me something and/or can be blackmailed, and inform them their attendance is mandatory. After that, things get tricky.

David will come, but only if he can bring his girlfriend Joann, who can only come if her club rugby game gets rained out. If that happens, she and three to seven of her friends will need something to do, and it might as well be eating eggs at my apartment. She’ll let me know the day-of. Kim is free that day, but she just bought a condo in River North. I can’t decide if it’s more insulting to not invite her, or to ask her to drive for an hour to hang out at an apartment where the “decor” is Christmas lights mounted on the ceiling with electrical tape. Chelsea will definitely be there. She needs a distraction from her recent breakup which happened over a very ugly four days on an Alaskan cruise. She now tears up at any mention of the Arctic circle. This wouldn’t normally be a problem, but David just got his 23andMe results back and he WILL NOT shut up about being seven percent Inuit.

Filling out my guest list is like playing a high-stakes game of people sodoku. When I’m finished, I spend about an hour trying to make my Paperless Post invite look like I spent 10 minutes on it. Then, I hit send with sweaty palms and wait.

Step two: Plan your menu

Effortless method

Deb, from Smitten Kitchen (which is truly my favorite food blog) has this advice for menu planning when you want to host brunch and still sleep in: “Here are the cornerstores I like a gather a brunch menu around: Something fresh, like a fruit salad, even better if you throw in a rich yogurt to spoon over them; something rich and eggy; something sweet, like a coffee cake, muffin, bread pudding or baked french toast; something bready like a biscuit or scone; something boozy, like mimosas, bloody marys or both and something unholy, like bacon or sausage.” Also, maybe potatoes. However, “Pancakes, traditional French toast and omelets are verboten.”

See? Easy peasy. It’s only six courses. Just, for the love of God, stay away from the pancakes!

My method

I, of course, take Deb’s advice to heart and plan an extensive and varied menu. I scour the internet for make-ahead egg dishes. I reject anything with less than two kinds of cheese as being “too pedestrian.” I bookmark about 20 scone recipes before I realize my heart wanted to make cinnamon rolls the whole time. I decide against culturing my own yogurt. I delude myself into believing that this counts as “keeping thinks simple” and heartily congratulate myself.

Step three: Prepare your meal

Effortless method

All the food writers are unanimous on this: Make as much ahead of time as possible. That way, all you have to do on brunch morning is roll out of bed, pop the cinnamon rolls in the oven, and greet your guests looking dewy and refreshed.

My method

You’ve been here with me before, folks. See, the thing about making things ahead of time is, you still have to make them at some point. The food blogs tend to gloss over this part. When I wake up on brunch morning with “everything ready” it’s only because I spent six-plus hours in the kitchen the night before, kneading, chopping and angsting. The night before the last brunch I hosted, I discovered (after midnight) that the powdered milk I was planning to put in the caramel roll dough was a year past its best-by date. I spent about 25 minutes scrolling through survivalist blogs, trying to figure out whether powdered milk ever expires. (Good news for the apocalypse, BTW: It doesn’t, probably!) After that was settled and all the food had been prepared, I still had to make my apartment look like the home of a human woman – rather than the home of a family of raccoons who shop at World Market.

Then, I collapsed in bed for about four hours. When I awoke I felt less refreshed, and more like I’d been swimming laps in a pool of brioche dough.

Step five: Greet your guests

Effortless method

The food blogs don’t have much guidance for this part either. At this point, their work is done and you’re on your own. I have heard Ina Garten say though, that you should make your guests feel at ease by greeting them barefoot and with a drink in your hand.

My method

I usually greet my guests with wet hair and mascara on one eyelash. I usher them into the living room to wait while I finish getting ready. Inevitably, they ask me if there’s anything they can do to help. “No,” I say. “Everything is going super smooth! I 100% planned for you to sit around for 30-40 minutes while I broil shrimp for the Bloody Mary garnishes. Enjoy the tap water I have prepared as an amuse bouche.”

But then – after the I’ve finished my makeup and tossed the fruit salad and apologized for the lateness of the meal about 15 times – there is some brunch enchantment that happens. Not everyone who was invited comes, but the ones who do are happy to be there. Even if the food isn’t perfect, it’s still full of eggs and butter. It’s better than fine. We linger at the table and chat about local politics and Food Network personalities and Enneagram types. We take seconds and thirds. In the end I conclude that, while brunch has not been effortless, it has been worth it. 

If you wanted, I could try to tell you how to host a better brunch. I could suggest how you might learn from my mistakes and streamline the process. But I don’t think that’s what you want. If you did, you wouldn’t have come this far with me – because I hope it’s clear by now that I am no expert on the subject. Instead, I’ll tell you this: Put as much or as little effort into brunch as you want. On the next page, I’ll share a recipe for a make-ahead egg dish that’s not too fancy or too simple on its own. Serve it with fresh raspberry lemonade garnished with rose petals. Or mimosas. Or just set a jug of Wal Mart’s finest least expensive sparkling wine on the table.

Whatever you decide, you have nothing to apologize for. The myth of the effortless brunch has no power over you anymore. 

Continue to the next page for the recipe for Baked Eggs and Greens with Bacon