Breakfast Wednesdays

The first thing you need to know about Duck and Waffle is how to find it.  It’s one of those places that seems to take pride in lack of any external sign of its presence.  You only come here if you’re already in the know.  Those equipped with insider knowledge of which unmarked side-door of Heron Tower to approach in order to find the dedicated lift that will launch you at dizzying speed past floor upon floor of glistening offices of the building atop which Duck and Waffle roosts, can saunter confidently up to the intercom with all the satisfaction that this sort of pseudo-exclusivity grants.  If, however, you have come across the place by casually browsing the web for somewhere to breakfast, you may find yourself circling the building with a puzzled look until you finally pick out the rather minimalist steel plaque that announces its presence.

Unnecessary irritations now put aside though, stepping into the glass sided box and rocketing up to the restaurant level I realise that I am finally fulfilling a dream held since the age of 8 when I first got Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator out of the library.  This is pretty much exactly what I imagined it to be like for Charlie, although [SPOILER ALERT!] thankfully we do actually stop without bursting out of the roof.   The view of the surrounds is everything that you would expect, and while it doesn’t quite rival Paramount for full 360 degree ogling potential, it is pretty spectacular – well, until the fog rolls in that is. 

As the first to arrive, I am guided to the bar area that precedes the restaurant itself where, despite the 24 hour licensing, I manfully resist the temptation to begin the day with a cocktail and instead load up with my first coffee.  As the rest of the breakfasting contingent meander in, we are guided through to a spick and span eating area, with an open plan kitchen adjourning in which a veritable hubbub of activity promises the imminent delivery of an array of lip-smacking delicacies detailed on the board above.  I say imminent, because in contrast to many of the establishments of this calibre, the place is almost full and clearly has been for a good hour at least.  Casting an eye over our options, it becomes quite easy to see why. 

After some deliberation, and having confirmed that the Full English option will be being sampled, I plump for the eponymous duck with his accompanying waffle – which arrives topped with a perfectly fried duck egg and a jug of intriguing mustard seed maple syrup concoction.   This latter, contrary to all sensible expectation, turns out to work very well – though I can only imagine that it must have required a lengthy process of unpleasant experimentation with ill-proportioned mixes of the same ingredients to arrive at just the right balance of syrup sweetness and hot mustard tang.

Two of our connoisseurs opt for the Duck egg en cocotte (with wild mushrooms, gruyere and truffle) and both pronounce this to be exceedingly good, and I must admit a slight pang of jealousy – for all that the Duck and waffle platter was done well, I can’t help feeling that it is actually somewhat unnatural breakfast fare (mainly the duck element, which somehow just doesn’t strike the right note for a morning meal – although I can perhaps see its merit if rounding off an all-nighter out on the town).

No Breakfast Wednesday can be complete without at least one Full English on the table, and Duck and Waffle do not disappoint on this front – providing two options for those of hearty appetite.  Unfortunately, we cannot elaborate on what exactly the the “foie gras ‘all day breakfast’” comprises, as the only clarification on the menu below this title is in the form of a single word.  This word is ‘nutella’.  Nobody present being willing to investigate the concept of  ‘nutella foie gras’, it remains for now a tantalising mystery.  The full English itself however, is every bit as good as it looks, coming with two eggs done any way you wish, a satisfyingly solid hunk of sourdough toast, succulent sausage and generous heap of crispy bacon.  It must be said that what is described on the menu as “hash browns” looks rather more like bubble and squeak to me -  but nevertheless, given that the vital consideration of gustationary merit is well and truly met, quibbling over such distinctions seems petty.  My position on beans is well known, and I won’t give it undue precedence here – suffice to say that at least Duck and Waffle go to the effort of adding a ‘trotter braise’ to their offering in this department, which at least adds a veneer of breakfast respectability.  Even if they have nicked the concept wholesale from the Hawksmoor.  No shame in that though.

Last but not least, our party also partook of the the steak ‘n’ eggs benedict, resplendent in its glistening golden glory.  You couldn’t ask for better presentation, this one looked simply irresistable with the sprinkling of cress granting a pleasing suggestion of healthiness without imposing the arduous futility of actually ingesting any substantial amount of vegetable matter.   A fine report was given of the braised ox cheek that is the centrepiece of this dish, but the generous drenching of hollandaise does, however make this a very rich experience and it is certainly conceivable that anything less than a robust stomach may be slightly overwhelmed by it.

Did I say last?  That was just the food!  A moment’s due is required to cover the beverages also.  The coffee was of excellent quality, and other tastes were also catered to in style.  It’s never going to be my favoured morning tipple, but I have to confess that there’s not much to match the aesthetic satisfaction of good pot of fresh peppermint tea, and on this Duck and Waffle most certainly deliver.

All round, a most satisfying experience – and with a pretty wide array of tempting dishes left untested (smoked finnan haddock, colombian eggs, duck egg in a brioche basket … and yes, the ‘nutella’ foie gras all day breakfast) the chance of a return visit are high.  And we’ll even know where the door is this time.

OK, this just has to be tried. How could we not go to a place called Duck and Waffle? I mean, it’s virtually imperative really. And it’s at the top of Heron Tower and the views look to be amazing.

Breakfasting venue: Duck and Waffle

Date of breakfasting: 17 April 2013

Location: Heron Tower, 110 Bishopsgate

Nearest Tube is: Aldgate

The lure of the devilled kidneys indeed proved too much temptation for some to resist, and the March breakfast was well attended.  1 Lombard is one of those places that seems to have somehow assume the mantle of the gentleman’s club, maintaining an air of exclusivity but without actually going as far as to actually maintain a members list. Nevertheless a quick inspection of our fellow patrons confirms that our booking has more or less doubled the number of women in the room. 

We were seated without any, despite having an extra over the number that we had booked for.  Leaving the pleasure of the spicy offal to others, I took it upon myself once more to tackle the challenge of the Full English.  Generally this is a prospect I face with some relish (no pun intended), however this morning even I am a little nervous about the scale of the task that I am about to take on.  You see, one of the things that has drawn us here to 1 Lombard is the intriguing note on the menu which informs the reader that the Full English breakfast, in addition to the usual fry-up essentials, “includes all the items from the Continental breakfast”.  Well this had to be tested out.  Nevertheless, I was beginning to wonder whether satisfying my curiousity was going to prove deadly to my gut. 

Fortunately, the servings are well proportioned and as I tuck into a creamy yogurt and nibble a couple of pastries and sup on an excellent coffee, I reflect that there are many worse ways to await the arrival of a plate of cooked morning sustenance.

That isn’t to say that you can’t go wrong here though. Despite assurances to the contrary, it does not seem to me that every one of our coterie was as pleased with what was put in front of them as I was. On the other hand those who choose to order porridge and a bowl of fruit when such a range of exquisite delicacies is on offer cannot hope for much sympathy from the Brekmeister.

By contrast, however, those who did opt for the devilled kidneys were pleasantly surprised to find that these came not just with the usual plain toast accompaniment, but with full contingent of tomato, bacon and scrambled egg to boot.

The full English itself was a delight both to behold and to consume. You need but a glance at this plate to know in an instant that you are in the hands of a master of the art. From the perfectly cooked eggs (yes, two as a matter of course) with their hearts of liquid gold glowing from the centre of whites done not a moment too long, nor even a smidgen too short, to the ruffled rashers of healthy coloured bacon everything in front of you screams quality and oozes with attention. A wonderfully grilled tomato perches atop a fantastically succulent mushroom, and the black pudding is a testament to the proper use of oats at breakfast table – of which the porridge brigade should take due note. If you’re wondering whether it’s as good as it looks, the answer is that it is if possible better. Additional points are garnered by the imposition of an extra fee for those barbarians who wish to sully their good breakfast with the travesty of baked beans. I heartily approve of this tax on poor taste, and recommend it be extended far and wide.

Best of all, and contrary to my initial fears, I left the table feeling pleasantly well fed but not in the least bit overstuffed. 1 Lombard certainly makes to my personal list of London’s best breakfasts on this showing, and I certainly look forward to a return visit to sample some of the other fare.

Continuing our survey of early morning fare at the Square Mile’s finest establishments, we note that One Lombard has yet to be submitted to the rigorous scrutiny of Breakfast Wednesday.  As of tomorrow, this shall no longer be so!

Early indications are promising, with a menu offering not only the generic “continental” and “full” breakfasts, but also a wide range traditional breakfast delicacies incluing liver and bacon, kipper, devilled kidneys and smoked haddock ‘Monte Carlo’, whatever that is.  Hopefully it doesn’t mean a kipper that’s just lost an Italian election …

Most satisfying of all though, is that at One Lombard “full” breakfast appears to mean very much that – not only do you get all the expected elements of a cooked breakfast plate, but you are also provided with everything from the continental breakfast too.  Bingo!   See you there!

Breakfasting venue: 1 Lombard Street

Date of breakfasting: 13 March 2013

Nearest Tube is: Bank

Location: 1 Lombard Street, London, EC3V 9AA

In a week that brought both the beginning of Lent and the resignation of the Pope, Paternoster Square seemed a most appropriate place to be holding our February breakfast, the only remaining question being whether the quality of the provision would carry any glimpse of the divine.  Setting all equine thoughts from the preceding month’s major food retailing debacle aside, we settled down to what promised from the menu to be a very filling start to the day.

It is best noted from the first that none of those present dared tackle the centrepiece, essentially a full English around an Aberdeen angus rib-eye steak.  Nevertheless, should you wish for a breakfast that is “full” in every sense of the word, then here you may find it.   We were welcomed at the door and seated immediately in the virtually empty restaurant, bags and coats briskly stashed in the cloakroom by the very efficient staff.   Drinks orders were taken promptly and delivered in little more than a blink.  This may not seem like a vital issue to home in on, however I take speedy delivery of the morning caffeine fix as a very serious part of any decent breakfast. Non-caffeinated beverages were also in supply with the fresh peppermint tea looking the business.

Satisfyingly, toast arrived shortly after to keep appetites at bay. Paternoster clearly take their religious imperatives seriously – and any prayerful petition for daily bread will more than answered here by the inclusion of as much toast as you can eat with the full breakfast option. The toast is plain and simple white, but done to perfection with a satisfying crunch, plentiful butter, with some rather delicious marmalade and “foraged fruit” jam ready at the table adorn the slice should you so wish.

Thus supplied, we used the intervening moments until the arrival of the breakfast itself to discuss the merits of the newly published “Breakfast Bible” courtesy of the indubitable Malcolm Eggs of London Review of Breakfasts. I hasten to add that we are not being paid to say this, however you may take my word that this is the best tome addressing every venerable aspect of the finest meal of the day since Jan Read’s “The Great British Breakfast” in 1981.

By the time the breakfasts arrived therefore, we had perused enough descriptions of sizzling bacon, juicy sausage, broiled partridge (and other even more esoteric fare) to be more than ready to proceed from the theoretical to the practical. The first item of note on the full breakfast is the hash brown, which is in fact more of a kind of fritter affair – very finely grated potato formed into a slim patty and fried just to the point of external crispiness but maintaining a satisfying substance to the internal texture. Top marks for this. I’d happily have ploughed through two or three of them given a chance.

As can be seen, the egg is beautifully done and shines like the light of spring at the edge of the plate, balancing off the solid tones of the meatier elements of the plate. The sausage and bacon are both cooked to exactly the right degree, and if Rhug estate pork is all like this then I can certainly see why you wouldn’t bother to buy it from anywhere else. I hesitate to mention my quibble with the black pudding, as tastes in this area are highly personal and vary widely – but this one was definitely a little too dry, and a little too grainy for my preference. I will always favour the puds with a slightly higher blood to oat ratio – however I will readily accept that it was good, and suffered from no flaw either in preparation or presentation.

No points may be deducted for lack of condiment, the vital presence of brown sauce and ketchup is not something that an establishment of this pedigree can overlook and they did not (and I have certainly been to comparable venues that have let themselves down in this respect). Those who chose not to attempt the “hearty” English breakfast option reported that the scrambled egg on toast was commendable.

The best surprise came last however, when the bill arrived and was much less than expected. Even after adding on a couple of items that they missed, it still felt like a steal even with a tip on top of service (which was, in fairness, superb). This is helped somewhat by the fact that unlike many similar outlets, all tea and coffee (as many as you like) is included in the full breakfast price. Nevertheless, we sauntered out into the fresh February air with full stomachs and that slightly guilty satisfaction that only comes from feeling one has just bagged a slightly too-good-to-be-true bargain. I feel the chances of being led into temptation by the Paternoster breakfast in the future are high.

Following on from the unprecedented posting of our latest breakfast review the day after the event, we follow up with this coup de grace – announcement of the next breakfast only the day after that!  For February’s breakfast we will patronise the Paternoster Chophouse, which offers a rather enticing array of breakfast options – ranging from your plain porridge, all the way up to a full “Steak breakfast”.  Yup, that would be Aberdeen Angus rib steak dished up with egg, bacon and hash browns.  For the less voracious morning eater, there’s banana oatmeal smoothies or fruit muffins – and for your traditionalist there’s the good ol’ kippers.  Oh yes, and did I mention that their breakfasts come with complimentary tea or coffee and toast?  I don’t believe I did.  Now that’s something you won’t see at every City breakfasting joint.  Let’s see if they can live up to their promise!  8am February 13th – see you there!

Breakfasting venue: Paternoster Chophouse

Date of breakfasting: 13 February 2013

Nearest Tube is: St Paul’s

Location: 1 Paternoster Square, Warwick Court, EC4M 7DX

It’s always good to discover fellow adherents to the cause of a good breakfast – and so it was with much delight that we originally came across the first Breakfast Club cafe buried in a Soho side-street.  It offered a thoroughly appetising menu, a raison d’etre that we could heartily embrace – all served up with a generous dollop of knowing kitsch.  We ended up with a follow-on visit to the Angel branch not long after, and had a memorable breakfast there that has hung on in the memory since.   So we were most pleased to discover that not only is the Breakfast Club thriving, but it is even expanding – providing the perfect excuse to head back once again.

This time we are at the Spitalfields branch – once again nestled in a suitably discreet alleyway just off a major thoroughfare, it has the perfect combination of being only a stone’s throw from easy access via Liverpool Street Station – but at the same time manages to feel somehow a bit off the beaten track.  This feeling is enhanced by the featureless and nameless bright yellow door through which you enter, which is presumably left this way to reinforce the general air of “knowingness” about the place.  You’re coming in here because you know it must be the right place, not because anything tells you that it is.

Once inside it’s the familiar achingly hipsterish vibe.  Big Smeg fridge, which may or may not be there purely for the aesthetic.  Neon “Sex, drugs and bacon rolls” sign.   Giant station clock.  Bartender with a beard straight out of Sons of Anarchy.  Wire-frame booths with wooden benches and tables, and a scattering of brightly coloured easy chairs up at the end.  Roland Rat wallpaper for the bathroom.  Yep, all hipster boxes ticked.

The menu looks very familiar – which is pleasing.  No need to fix what ain’t broke – and accordingly we order up a Full Monty, a Huevos Rancheros and a Huevos el Benny.  The latter is slightly a strike in the dark, but happily turns out to be some sort of Latino eggs benedict.

That’s muffin, peppers, guacamole, a bit of chilli/salsa all topped with chorizo sausage, poached eggs and hollandaise – and it is salivatingly delicious.  And simply because I can’t contemplate the prospect of breakfast without it, I also have side of mushrooms.  The Huevos Rancheros consists of tortillas, sour cream, refried beans, two fried eggs and two fat, spicy chorizo sausages.  It is, in fact, a meal for a full day pretty much.  As can be seen the eggs are pretty much perfectly done, and the dish as a whole hits every spot – and you won’t find anything like it anywhere else I can think of (even at Camino).

Of course, not breakfast establishment worth its salt can do without it’s full breakfast option – and at the Breakfast Club that is the “Full Monty”.  This dish also has the distinction of being almost the only one on the menu here that has sausage that isn’t chorizo (though I’m sure you could request any of those with ordinary sausage if you wanted).   The Full Monty certainly does justice to its name with its two eggs accompanied by a pool of beans, the aforementioned sausage, doorstops of toast, bacon, mushroom, black pudding and rather large potato’s worth of wedges.  This is not for the faint of appetite.

While it would give me great pleasure to say that the Full Monty was without reproach, unfortunately the Mysterious Case of the Black Pudding prevents me from giving what would otherwise be fulsome praise of the entire Breakfast Club experience.  The mystery is that despite maintaining all the requisite appearance and texture of a delicious black pudding it tastes …. well, it’s not that it tastes bad in any way really, just that it doesn’t taste at all of black pudding.  We all sample a piece, and nobody could quite put their finger on it other than it was almost as if the blood had been sucked out and just left a piece of fried oatmeal behind.  “Odd” was the consensus.

However that can in no way be said to have brought the level of the whole experience down to anything less than bloody fantastic, as a quick swig of breakfast smoothie was more than enough to remind us.  If you’ve been to either of the other Breakfast Clubs, then there’s not going to be anything here to take you by surprise – but the too cool for school thing kinda works somehow, and doesn’t feel quite as earnest as, say, the Modern Pantry. The vital ingredient though, is right there – spankingly good breakfasts, served promptly and looking like a million bucks on your plate – and for the adventurous soul there’s even a selection of lively looking cocktails should the need arise. All in all, its good to see somewhere getting it so right – long may it continue!

New year it is, and with new resolve we venture once again into the heady territory of breakfasting on the second Wednesday of the month.  We note that the Breakfast Club has now expanded its reach – and having sampled the fare at both the Soho and the Angel branches, it seems only right that we should not ignore this new opportunity. 

A short walk from Liverpool Street Station will take you to The Breakfast Club, Spitalfields (map).  See you there 8am tomorrow!

Champagne breakfast for £10.  It seemed so good on paper.  Well, onscreen I suppose – but it was there on a special menu card on the table too.  Thus primed, I sauntered up to the bar in pleasant mood as I contemplated the prospect of a pre-work pick-me-up.

“Two full English Champagne breakfasts please!”

A troubled look came over her face.  “Oh, I’m sorry – we don’t serve alcohol before 10am”. 

(me, disbelievingly)  “Uhhhh … but your menu says that you’re offering Champagne breakfast all December.  It doesn’t say anything about time restrictions”

(her, firmly) “Well we don’t have a license to serve alcohol before 10am, so we can’t do that.” 

(very irritatedly) “Well that’s a bit s***”

“Would you like to speak to the manager?”

“YES PLEASE!”

I return to the table to peruse the conundrum of an alcohol free Champagne breakfast.  Several dust-balls blow past, and a member of the office Christmas party behind us opens his gigantic secret Santa gift to discover 50 cans of Coke, much to everyone’s amusement.  A faintly stubbly and weary looking manager emerges from the basement.  “What’s the problem?”

I hand him the promotional menu, and stab a finger at the Champagne breakfast offer.  He looks at it.  He looks at me.  “She won’t let you have it?” he asks.

“No.”  He straightens up.  “Right, well I think we can sort that out”.  He strides off to the bar.  Momentarily, a different bartender appears at our table: “Brown or white toast?”. Relief all round.

Our orders safely (although possibly illegally) placed, frayed nerves begin to settle a little. They are settled even further when a tray bearing two champagne flutes wends its way towards our seats. Now it must never be said that All Bar One lacks style or sophistication, for perched atop each glass is a gold coloured plastic diamond, which opens to reveal … uh, well, we’re not quite sure what. Possibly a bracelet. But definitely classy. Oh yes.

Thus bearing these treasures, and having fulfilled our quest for a breakfast tipple, we were ready to sample the breakfast fare – and this is where the fairytale ending comes in. It was actually a properly good breakfast. Okay so it’s not going to knock Simpson’s or Roast off their pedestals any time soon, but it’s a good breakfast done well. The eggs are pretty much perfect – and you get two, which is a definite bonus. Only half a mushroom, but I’m prepared to forgive that because it is delicious and cooked beautifully. The provision of two sausages also earns brownie points in my book – I know that there are baconistas out there for whom nothing is an acceptable substitute for the humble rasher, but I am not of that camp. A good sausage wins out every time for me – and these are most certainly good sausages. Fat, sizzling and just the right level of spice to pep up the platter. A fried tomato rounds things off nicely. I have no comment on the beans because, well, beans are beans to me and these are no exception. The only minor flaw is the toast which is a bit anaemic and chewy, and tending toward the lower end of the thermometer. Nevertheless, this is really the only thing wrong, so it’s definitely an overall winner in my book.

So then – we all lived happily ever after? Not quite, as it happens. Having duly polished our plates and called for the bill, the manager approaches our table again a little sheepishly. “Uh, I’m afraid that this offer hasn’t been put on the tills yet … so I’m going to have to write your receipt our by hand. Is that OK?”

The moral of this story is: don’t let the marketing department run your Christmas without talking to the frontline staff. That aside, another good breakfast was had by all.