While it may appear to the untrained eye that Breakfast Wednesdays has been napping, nothing could be further from the truth. Nevertheless, you might be forgiven for thinking so given the absence of posts of late. Rather than trying to go back and do individual posts to catch up, we’ll just have a three-in-one to get us back on track.
November was the Folly Bar, down by Monument. December took us back to the dependable sumptuousness of the Hawksmoor. January found us in the newly opened Bad Egg, in CityPoint just round the back of Moorgate. So, how did they fare?
Truth is, November is kinda hard to remember at this distance. Browsing back through the photos reveals an establishment rather at ease with its own sense of swank. However they do at least concede to provide, along with the seemingly obligatory chopping board, a dish to contain the breakfast and prevent the eggs from dispensing their contents down your front (unlike the unfortunate Anthologist). To quibble that said dish is in fact a cast-iron frying pan is merely to split hairs – it does at least go with the equally robust teapot, which looks like it may have been recylced from a Dalek. But hey, the milk comes in a pretend mini milk bottle, so it’s all alright!
Once you’ve accepted the silliness, the food is on the whole decent, although the bacon left a little to be desired. Nevertheless, the eggs were just right, the chop was juicy, the mushrooms flavoursome. Although the sausages did not exactly thrill, they were at least two of them – it is a source of constant amazement to me that the places that serve the more expensive breakfasts can often be the most stingy with their servings. Gratifying that this is not the case here.
What can you say? The Hawksmoor does not disappoint. The only hitch was getting a table – on first attempt to book the site came back with no tables available between 7am and 9:30am. Not much good to me so off I went to check for availability elsewhere. This came back also as a negative but suggested some alternative venues with availability at 8am, including … Hawksmoor. Slightly baffled, I clicked through and lo and behold, a reservation for 8am drops into my inbox. Don’t ask me what witchcraft these booking systems work on, but at least it worked in the end.
Hawksmoor retain their reputation for being one of the vanishingly small number of breakfasting establishments where I will concede to the offer of beans on my plate. In this case, because the pig’s trotter beans really do make a positive contribution to the overall balance of the meal, unlike the usual slop of half-warmed Heinz that most places slap on to obscure the fact that they’ve failed to fill your plate with actual food.
Bad Egg is a curious endeavour. Clearly pitching first and foremost for the lunchtime crowd, which seem to be here in droves, the place was rather deserted at 8am, which is a pity because they do offer an original flavour of breakfast. Unfortunately there are a few niggles – first as I tried and failed to sit down in one of the booths. Although they lend an attractive retro-chic look, the enormous bases of the tables make it practically impossible to actually sit at them with the seating packed in as tightly as it is. And that’s when there was just my own legs to negotiate into the space – I dread to think what getting six people in might entail.
Nevertheless, although the place is not technically open when I arrive a little before 8am I do at least get a seat and a coffee while awaiting co-breakfasters. Disappointingly, the coffee arrives with a little plastic carton of UHT. I mean, I know we’re going for the diner vibe here, but there ought to be some limits. Glady that is where the disappointment ends, because everything else from here on in is bliss. The staff are friendy and conversational, the menu is alluring, the food arrives quickly and the breakfast itself is delicious.
The Huevos Rancheros is a taste explosion in a bowl, with just the right level of kick for a morning pick-me-up. The smooth cool sour cream and guacamole accompanying loads the experience with just the right level of comfort eating feel to accompany the hit of the spicy chorizo and make a truly splendid breakfast. It’s gone before I know it, and I’m wishing that the theory of relativity could be somehow reversed to allow the experience to feel like it lasted longer.
Likewise, the baked breakfast eggs with bacon and black pudding turned out to essentially be three mini breakfast fajitas – each featuring a baked egg on a little tortilla garnished with a mini-black pudding, globs of guacamole, and a sprinkling of shredded bacon. Novel, and sumptuous. As the curate would say, Bad Egg is definitely good in parts – and fortunately those parts are the great majority. I’d definitely go again – if only to discover whether their “fried chicken, peanut butter and jam” bap actually works.