The hash is emphatically not from a can.
Ninety-nine percent of Americans have never had real hash. No, I’m not talking about the brown, smudgy euphoric drug from Morocco, nor am I talking about the stuff made with impossibly tiny cubes of potatoes and dog food that you must shake from a can.
The hash at the Trilby is made from a corned beef brisket that might as well have been carried uptown from Katz’s, cooked with uneven shards of potato, making one hell of a memorable rendition, tasting of salt and sweet corning spices.
The poached eggs on top are perfect. Prick them immediately and let the gold flow over the homemade hash. Dip the toast points in at will.
The virtue of the Trilby for breakfast, BTW, is the verdant back terrace, where you can often sit as the sole table and enjoy what is basically a brunch menu every day of the week. And — just like brunch — you can have a mimosa or a Sex on the Beach. Also recommended: blueberry pancakes.