xicohuevosrancherosLike most Portlanders, I love a good brunch, but unlike most Portlanders, I won’t squander 10 percent of my weekend standing in line for it, because I have way too many other things to squander my weekend on, like laying face down on the sofa regretting 100% of any decisions made about Jell-O shots the previous night. Which means that I either rise with the roosters on weekend mornings to beat the brunch crush, or hunt down that most elusive of creatures—the great-brunch-sans-100-person-waitlist. And even rarer, the near-mythical great-brunch-sans-100-person-waitlist-WITH-PATIO. Enter Xico, which affords you serene patio digs on which to sip hibiscus tea mimosas and margaritas, and down plates of cinnamon sugar dusted sopaipillas, pork belly carnitas hash, and chile lime hollandaise drenched sopas Florentine, all minus the mad brunch rush. Ay ay ay!