The point is not the gruyere cheese strata, the fruit salad (expensive berries in winter), poached eggs in nests of spinach, but the feeling this food brings to the table. That of abundance, the atmosphere of yeast things, everything rising. Come, my friends, 'tis not too late to seek a better world is what a pitcher of mimosas says.
That is the meaning of brunch. In the midst of this world of toaster waffles and speed, there are biscuits and someone (perhaps the Goddess of Brunch, spangled in cava, twinkling in Hollandaise) thoughtfully left the butter out to soften so you (precious unique creature) can spread it with the snub-nose of a little butter knife.