This morning, it was Sunday brunch at Bistro 212, where even the Bears in skirts can be seen in their natural environment, throwing back the omelets and mimosas. I split breakfast with Mitchell, and we were served a plate of breakfast chilaquiles large enough to feed a small village. We also sampled the Brick French toast, two slices of bread stuffed with cream cheese and fried together. So large, it put Texas toast to shame. Both were yummy and the salsa on the eggs just warm enough to flare, but not hot enough to burn.