The raison d'être of Sunday brunch is eggs Benedict, that heavenly, cholesterol-rich concoction of English muffin, Canadian bacon, poached egg, and hollandaise sauce. At the Meetinghouse, a primly elegant temple to our native victuals, eggs Benedict gets a New American makeover. Instead of an English muffin, it's supported by the house's stellar biscuits: cracker-crisp on the outside and ethereally fluffy within, with all the textural peaks and crevasses and the buttery flavor of good home cooking. Instead of Canadian bacon there's "ham hock stew," moist, pungent shards of pig meat that taste like they've been simmering on the back of the stove with the devil's own herbs and spices since sunup. The hollandaise is lemony tart and smooth as silk, and when you press against the eggs with your fork a warm, golden pool of yolk envelops the whole shebang. (One of the great things about eggs Benedict is how unavoidably messy it is.) Mimosas and Bellinis (and coffees, teas, and juices) are available to complement this velvety triumph.