Wanna smooth out and class up a "what in the heck did I do to myself last night?" Saturday morning? Could your cruddy-weather Sunday use some white-tablecloth-style brightening? Do you deserve a pampering treat to complete your weekend?

Wanna smooth out and class up a "what in the heck did I do to myself last night?" Saturday morning? Could your cruddy-weather Sunday use some white-tablecloth-style brightening? Do you deserve a pampering treat to complete your weekend?

If you answered yes to any of these questions, then I recommend you head over to Lindey's in German Village for its scrumptious weekend brunch.

You know Lindey's, right? It's the grand old dame of Columbus fine dining, where Kent Rigsby had his big breakout moment and where, to this day, movers and shakers take a load off or get a buzz on.

Obviously such a place can take a toll on your wallet during dinner service, but with nothing at brunch clocking in over $14, anyone can indulge in the classic ambience and spoil-yourself cooking that have made Lindey's so famous for lo these many years.

During Lindey's relatively low-key, old-jeans-are-OK Saturday and Sunday brunch (served from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m.), nary a table will be without an eye-opening, horseradishy Bloody Mary ($6) or a pale golden mimosa ($8.50 - lively, made with a generous splash of Cava). Since you're at Lindey's, and therefore treating yourself, I suggest you join the good-looking and cocktailing crowd.

Plus, it'll give you an extra moment to take in the airy, French-bistro-like space with its high ceiling, roomy and beautiful copper bar, huge windows and arty appointments. In fact, the place looks so pretty and sophisticated, you probably won't even mind the pantyweight soft-rock classics playing lowly in the background.

There are nine items listed under Lindey's brunch (you can order off the large lunch menu if you want) and all of them trend toward the rich and eggy (and often hollandaise-sauced) side of the food spectrum. But that's OK, because their moderate sizes make them just the right amount of a delightful splurge.

Lindey's Crabcake and Eggs ($14) has long been one of my favorite brunch dishes anywhere in town, and a recent sampling didn't disappoint. A personal-sized skillet brought an assembly of savories that forged together in my mouth like a celebration of farm and ocean.

In the cute little pan, sturdy hollandaise was dolloped over a fried egg that crested above the star of the meal - a smallish but authentic Maryland-style crabcake that was probably 95 percent pure crabmeat. Adding texture and heft were leaves of baby spinach and irresistibly crusted, waxy gold potatoes. Polishing that one off had me crabwalking out of the restaurant with a delirious smile on my face.

Another dish singing sweetly in the key of extravagance was the Croque Madame ($9), an over-the-top sort of French-toast sandwich. First imagine two large stacked slabs assembled in Lincoln-Logs fashion. Now imagine them constructed out of impossibly rich strata of egg-drenched sweet brioche bread, melted gruyere cheese and salty ham. Finally, imagine me happily plowing through all that and then mentally scheduling a gym membership.

The Eggs Rancheros ($12) presented a colorful plateful of Mexican-ish elements laid out like a painter's palette. Either DIY tacos or deconstructed huevos rancheros (depending on your aesthetics), here's what I got: warm flour tortillas (would've preferred corn); fresh-enough, avocado-centric believable guacamole; a rich, cuminy black bean puree with a few whole beans; sour cream; two perfect sunny-side-up eggs; several slices of good salty ham; and a slightly sweet, slightly spicy thick tomato-y sauce. Verdict: Ole!

Not to be outdone was the wickedly rich and large wedge of Chef's Quiche ($9.50). Its crisp, buttery crust held an attractively browned, custardy mass of cheddar-cheesy eggs punctuated by spinach leaves and bits of smoky bacon. It came with salad, fruit or soup.

I, of course, threw caution to the bitter winter wind and opted for the long-cooked, sherry-shot, dark, salty and beefy-brothed French Onion soup. The large crock arrived wearing a veritable helmet of melted gruyere. Hey, at the lovely Lindey's weekend brunch, that's proper attire.