So after a week of abstinence on the Raw Fairies detox cleansing regime, I eased myself back into the word of chewing on Saturday morning with breakfast at, well, where else for a reunion with my schoolfriends of the 80s? Shoreditch’s The Breakfast Club of course.
Hidden away on Artillery Lane, just across from Liverpool Street Station, this is a gem of a breakfast cafe with a rollicking sense of humour. (There is a branch in Soho & one just up the road in Hackney too.)
We convened for stage two of our reunion at 9am, so that we could meet Nic’s husband and two children who she had stashed in a hotel room the night before. It was a great place for all of us: lots of space, big tables, and a huge choice of delicious-sounding food.
I chose very badly unfortunately, but the bucket of very good coffee helped. Especially when I clocked the Pac Man cup.
And everyone else’s food looked amay-zing. Especially Scott’s heaping plate of French toast with crispy bacon and chopped bananas and Esther’s granola with yoghurt and berries.
I was distinctly underwhelmed by a huevos rancheros that had as much relation to Mexico as a chicken tikka masala does to India. It would have been sent back in a nano-second in any self-respecting American joint, but I huffily & half-heartedly ate it because I was in London, where one does not make a fuss and, frankly, gets what one deserves by ordering Mexican food in this city (anywhere other than Wahaca).
(Honestly – it was served on a chewy FLATBREAD, with a smear of guac, a teaspoon of sour cream and a puddle of mixed beans in tomato sauce, with two sad looking fried eggs lobbed on top. No cilantro to be seen. It wasn’t echt, that’s for sure. Or even anything like my home-cooked version here. I had indigestion all morning.)
I will stick to the classics next time and have the full on English breakfast. When in Rome etc etc.
Sunday was brunch on the roof at Shoreditch House with my dear friend A, with whom I toiled joyfully on Conde Nast Traveller A Very Long Time Ago. We now live near each other, and it is a great happiness to me that we are still friends after all this time. There was healthy avocado on toast, with a side of baked beans and more coffee.
We finished up with a quick sample sale purchase or two at Monica & Joe who had set up a couple of rails downstairs and then went home via Albion and their bakery section of badness. Victoria Sponge for A, brownie for lil’sis.
Figgy, almondy good-ness at Conran’s East London outpost: Albion