As reported previously, Boxing Day was a success. People whom we like showed up, people whom we dislike were miles and miles away, the food was exactly what I like (and exactly what those people whom we like have always enjoyed).
Bloody Mary by the pitcher -- kindly note, dear Internet, this pitcher is already one Bloody Mary short of full -- and champagne and fresh orange juice (that's kind of the point of living in FL, yes?)
and assorted espresso-based fluids (the above is a mocha cappuccino) establish the proper perspective.
Now, to facilitate casual brunching AND maximize the crust:interior ratio, I cut the pannetone into stick-like segments. (This was a trial run from Christmas Day.) The trick is to get the outside good and golden brown, leaving the interior pretty raw. Then, place the whole batch on a baking sheet and cook in a low-and-slow oven. This minimizes your stove time and makes sure all of the pieces emerge hot at one time.
The same applies to bacon. On the griddle, low-and-slow, to eliminate any curling. Take it to almost crisp, and finish off the batch of eleventy frillion rashers in the oven, again saving time and freeing up the griddle. Champagne California Champenoise. This is key.
I had a bit more to drink than was prudent and therefore I completely forgot didn't get a chance to take a photo of the scrambled eggs but I made them pretty much the was GR does in this video. I used a somewhat lower temperature and added the butter in bits for better emulsification (I also omitted that whole "fry-up" from the procedure) but otherwise it's the same thing. I'm not a big fan of following recipes, but I rather like following a recipe's concept, adjusting things to my own taste. Hence the variations I used. If you like scrambled eggs, this is the way to go. In fact, the only improvement possble is the over-the-top Haute Anglaise use of a double boiler.
Since the food and drink were pretty low-effort affairs, I was able to flop down in a chair and catch up with the aforementioned people whom we like. The weird thing is that some of these people whom we like live maybe 25 minutes away by car. Yet we see them once a year (if that) as opposed to the Buxoms who live 72 states away and whom we see 2x-3x a year. Anyway, I wish I would have taken more photos, but suffice it to say the mood-ameliorating effects of vodka (after a previous couple of days wherein I had to endure the psyche-ravaging pillocks whom my parents insist are related to me by ties of blood) made my efforts at being photo-diligent, er, wane sharply.