Breakfast

I don’t know that I wholly trust people who claim they don’t like breakfast. Not liking breakfast seems mighty odd given that, depending on where/what/who you are, it encompasses nearly every single food item going at any time of the day you desire. We know this to be true because we’ve all felt the deep sadness that a poor hotel breakfast entails. Try as I may I cannot eat congee for breakfast. And to be clear - I have not tried very hard. Also, I see your mixed cheese & meat tray and I reject your advances. I want my eggs poached, my bacon smoked and my toast heavily buttered. Marmite is king. I salute those who eat a full breakfast and then have cereal for dessert. Croissants are the amuse-bouche of the breakfast buffet. And anything you scoff en route to your table is naturally not counted. Whilst we’re here, I have another confession to make, those egg chefs make me incredibly nervous. I don’t know what their game is but I’m happy just scooping up powdered scramble mix and bypassing your ‘special’ omelette skills. And yes, I’m having sausages this morning. Coffee needs to be black with milk. Orange juice cannot, I repeat cannot, have any bits in it - all you orange bit eating quoffers need to be arrested. And sure, apple juice from concentrate is very delicious and probably a sure fire way to pump your body with illegal chemicals. And I get a real kick out of all those mini pastries. 

The pleasingly vast hotel buffet breakfast (Myanmar, 2020)

When I moved to Shanghai I stayed in the Hilton for ten days as a bridge between my ‘arrival holiday’ (not a thing) and the permanent move to my lilong studio flat. Let me tell you - that Hiton knew how to host a Brit for breakfast. I’d trot downstairs (via the lift) twenty minutes early and really go to town on that buffet. We’re talking folded toast bacon sandwiches hidden in napkins for later, spare small plates for me to enjoy a ‘taster’ breakfast before breakfast-proper, which can only be termed as a full morning meal. It was superb. 

And then there is the Great British Fry Up. The stuff of dreams, isn’t it? There’s a scene in Four Weddings & A Funeral at the start when Gareth (Callow) is cooking Thomas a fried breakfast, actually it could be the other way around and quite possibly at the end of the film. Anyway, my point is - there isn’t anything more wonderful than a fried breakfast. I want one before a big event, the morning after a big event and quite possibly in order to organise a big event. You bet I consume at least one rasher of bacon in the process of cooking the bacon. And if there are any numbers I’m only doing you a fried egg and maybe scrambled eggs. Broadly speaking everything also needs to cook at the same rate as sausages because it’s all going in one tray. I do not know how to use the oven grill as I grew up leaning on an Aga and that’s just the way it is. For similar reasons I get sad about toasters (if you know, you know). I’d also appreciate it if at least some of the meal is conducted in a gentle silence. It is not required but I do quite like it that way. I’m definitely happy to throw in some fried bread & black pudding if that’s your heritage and breeding. Personally, I love tomatoes and a small corner for beans. Mushrooms are also in but I prefer them as a stand-alone on toast for tomorrow’s breakfast.

Lisbon breakfast that we did twice it was so good. I also went home with one of their plates.

But if we’re talking about ‘best’ breakfasts then I need to take you to Melbourne, home of the poached avocado flat white phenomena. If you like Instagram, the Guardian or any modern culture then I know you’re familiar with the breakfasts I enjoyed in Melbourne. Slightly toasted sourdough with soft green avocado framing a perfectly poached egg. On the side you’d find some whipped goats cheese, a spicy tomato relish and Australian bred smoked back bacon. And then the coffee, perfect Melbourne coffee. I can imitate this at home but I will never do it as well as the Aussies. 

Pretty rad pancakes made out of oats that we whipped up during isolation.

Porridge is, in my experience, more controversial than marmite. For children it's a dead cert. I know from my childhood that porridge was incredibly exciting and very delicious. As an adult I find I need to eat it nearly naked and after one mouthful I’m still too hot and too full. I know about adding fruit to it but honestly I just want a dab of honey and to not feel so damn sweaty. I have a lot of respect for the people who eat porridge as a component to any health drive. And I promise that I will never make my children water the milk down.

Childhood supermarket nostalgia in line with Wolly’s picnmix

And then there is cereal. Cereal is the teenage currency of choice. I’m talking about jumbo boxes of coco-pops, wheetos, cheerios, weet-a-bix, those small weet-a-bix with chocolate bits in them and whatever your childhood household favoured. I happily scoffed all of them, often during my teenage ‘morning’ (ie. around 3pm). This was the fuel of happiness. I gave up cereal around the same time that I gave up sleeping all day, taking exams at the end of every school year and not knowing what a hangover was. 

The dream pre-flight airport morning beer and fry-up situation

You bet that I can ‘breakfast on the go’. I know my way around a train station bacon bap, a rushed slice of toast, a runny fried egg sandwich and a flaky Pret croissant. I can rustle up an extra hand to hold a filter coffee whilst getting through an underground barrier. Being late and half asleep will not stop me from eating the first meal of the day, no sir. 

But, if we’re serious about breakfast then we need to loosen our belts and take a long flight to America. These guys are not kidding. Breakfast comes with breakfast and genuine health warnings. If I’m judging anyone it would be myself. I wish I was brave enough to fully embrace the joy of a supersized American breakfast. The full diner experience of crispy bacon, stacked pancakes, syrup, link sausages, hash browns, melon (inextricably required), butter on everything, a waitress pouring you drip coffee, cream for said coffee, cowboy beans, eggs over easy and a 10% tip for the pleasure of it all. 

As I said - I don’t fully trust people who reject all of this.

Final word goes to the humble (homemade) toast with marmite and a second one with (homemade) marmalade. With a side of proper filter coffee.