Breakfasting venue: Andrew’s Restaurant
Date of breakfasting: 8am, 22 January 2014
Location: 160 Gray’s Inn Road
Nearest Tube is: Chancery Lane
Breakfasting venue: Andrew’s Restaurant
Date of breakfasting: 8am, 22 January 2014
Location: 160 Gray’s Inn Road
Nearest Tube is: Chancery Lane
December breakfast is always a tough call. Along with Christmas, the last Breakfast Wednesday of the year feels like it can never quite live up to the expectations that are held for it – it must be a glorious success and have some sort of celebratory feel to it. Yet revisiting a ‘tried and tested’ venue also seems like cheating. This year’s selection was no different, and after lengthy debate over which establishments offered the best chance of an early morning festive tipple along with the the standard fare, the Fox and Anchor was selected.
Seems hard to believe that Breakfast Wednesdays has been going this long without yet visiting this formidable force on the Breakfasting scene. The Fox and Anchor is tucked away on a side street running off from Smithfield Market, a mere stone’s throw from the location of previous Breakfasts, yet we’ve never noticed it. Perhaps because it is a pub, and it has to be said that the general performance of pubs in BW’s experience has been poor (with the notable exception of Simpson’s Tavern, of course). Nevertheless, the offer of a “City Boy” breakfast including a pint of stout along with the Full English with liver, kidneys and black pudding suggested true dedication to the best principles of pre-work consumption and demanded at least fair consideration.
The first hurdle was actually getting through to secure a table, and after the phone rang out again on the third attempt to get through, I opted for the “turn up and see” approach. For practically every place we’ve been to, this would be unproblematic as they are usually at best half full at 8am. Not the Fox and Anchor, which was crammed from corner to corner with merrily feasting suited types.
However, I must offer full points to them on this front – other than a slightly furrowed brow when we said we had no booking, no fuss was made at all as we were guided to a cosy little table for four in an out of sight alcove. Not even when the fifth and sixth breakfasters turned up. I am, sadly, unable to report on the merits of the “City Boy” breakfast as, in the event, none of our party turned out to be up to the challenge. However the noises emanating from the adjacent table, which had been supplied with several “City Boys” suggests that it met with satisfaction.
Those of our own breakfasters who contented themselves with a modest full English were not disappointed either. Where many inferior competitors have gone the way of the single sausage, it is heartening to know that the real deal is still on offer. In addition to the double helping of processed pork, the standard serving also includes two eggs and a healthy(?) portion of bacon. In short, this breakfast does not go short on anything.
The only real stumbling block was the tomatoes, and it is almost a shame to mention it given the quality of pretty much every other aspect of our experience – but on the other hand, when so much of it is done so well anything that doesn’t quite come up to scratch sticks out like a sore thumb. So here it is – breakfast tomatoes should never ever be served cold. It’s contrary to all logic and to the laws of the Medes and Persians (or I’m sure it would have been, had they had any rules about breakfast). I don’t care what fine herbs are daintily sprinkled across them, or how beautifully they’ve been cut, a hot breakfast should be hot. And breakfast tomatoes should ideally be served up with a sprinkling of salt, gleaming skin, and dark brown grill lines like plough furrows across them, HOT from the grill or skillet. I’ll even accept tinned tomotoes that have been heated up in a microwave at a pinch. But a cold tomato plonked on the side of the plate is anathema – we’re not here for a salad. We’re here for a breakfast.
With that rant aside, breakfast at the Fox and Anchor was without any further blemish (well, any blemish other that was the responsibility of the venue … we cannot, of course, blame the veritable establishment for the menu choices of some of our less enlightened co-breakfasters. Porridge, honestly!!)
Anyway, I would happily be back here for a hearty start to the day – and the lure of the “City Boy” still remains …
Breakfasting venue: The Fox and Anchor
Date of breakfasting: 8am, 18 December 2013
Location: 115 Charterhouse Street EC1M 6AA
Nearest Tube is: Barbican
November’s breakfast was a return visit of sorts – back in the Heron Tower, but this time at ground level rather than the heady heights of Duck and Waffle. In retrospect, it would have been better to return to a tried and tested purveyor of top quality fare, but you live and learn.
The Drift Bar offers an enticing array of breakfast options from the traditional full English to the entirely original (in the Brekmeister’s experience) “Breakfast Club Sandwich” and the rather promising “Californian Kick Start”. Unfortunately the reality doesn’t quite live up to the promise.
What can certainly be said though is that Drift like to do everything with a bit of style, whether it’s delivering your full English to the table complete in skillet, having the most elaborately decorated breakfast menu I’ve so far seen, or serving up the “Kickstart” in top trendy style, on one of those wooden chopping board style slabs. Obviously they didn’t get around to reading our review of the Anthologist’s similar serving choice.
Likewise, the club sandwich arrived, looking very impressive – and accompanied the perennial dilemma of how exactly one goes about eating such a thing as a club sandwich. The sad truth is, however, that surmounting that challenge was probably the most satisfactory part of the experience, as the sandwich itself as a meal didn’t really have much about it to speak of. Perhaps smothering all the vital elements of breakfast in a stack of slightly chewy toast is not the best way to go about bringing out their qualities, but whatever it is the Breakfast Club Sandwich certainly isn’t a show-stopper.
The overall verdict on the other dishes comes in a similar vein – the Californian Kickstarter had disappointingly little kick to it, and the once the novelty of eating from a skillet has worn off (after approximately 30 seconds), the full English does not manage to distinguish itself particularly in any other way. Verdict – come here for a drink maybe, but if it’s breakfast you’re after then drift on upstairs to the Duck and Waffle where you’ll get a proper treat.
Everyone knows about the Shard, right? Or at least, everyone in London knows about the Shard. A big pile of Qatari money reaching from London Bridge station, all the way up to heaven – or something like that. We’ve watched it going up and up for years, and finally it’s finished – so what now?
Well, breakfast, of course. I think there’s a restaurant somewhere up near the top, but on this occasion we settled for just a few floors up at “Aqua Shard”. With a name like that, I think we were prepared for something pretty tasteless and perfunctory – but the reality was really rather different. Not only was the decor verging on what might be called tasteful, but the food was, not to put too fine a point on it, breathtakingly good. Really.
Whether it’s fried, poached or scrambled, you can count on your eggs being impeccable. Bacon and sausage to die for, and delightful sourdough toast.
Smoked salmon scrambled eggs were more info
I’m afraid I can’t even remember what this dish was .. but I do remember that every dish was savoured fully by all and pronounced to be excellent.
And of course, there’s the view. At 8am, it is wonderfully uninterrupted by other people – in the vast space that Aqua Shard have to themselves up there, we were almost alone until 8:30 or so when a few suits started to drift in. With sweeping views up and down the river and across the expanse of London, it’s worth a visit just to stand and gawp – and at less than the price of a ‘flight’ on the London Eye, and with much less of a wait, you also get a splendid breakfast, that can easily rival the top places we have visited so far. For ways to start a day, you won’t do much better than this.
It’s not quite apparent what to expect when you open the front door of the Factory House, but there’s a clue in the quirky array of quasi-industrial decor scattered around the upstairs lobby, from the clocking in machine to the obligatory ‘olde worlde’ furniture and books squeezed into the small space atop the open spiral staircase descending into the underbelly of the establishment.
Once there, it’s a fairly familiar set-up that will not leave anyone feeling out of place who has visited any of the various trendy basement-style eating joints that have sprung up over recent years (yes, Hawksmoor, Caravan and the like .. I am thinking of you!). A selection of tables, booths and bar seating presents itself, all in a deep polished dark veneer wood. Although I have been deserted by breakfasting comrades on this dim and dark morning, a cursory glance around the room lets me know that the Factory House is not generally unpatronised at 8am, and tables fill steadily as I sample the wares.
A full English is the only possibility given that there’s no-one else to explore the menu with, and Factory House delivers this with aplomb. I’m always moderately disappointed with the “single sausage” school of thought, however I can usually overcome this provided the sausage is of sufficient quality and I am pleased to say that this bar is passed here. I must give full credit for the two eggs fried and served up in perfect condition with just the right dash of seasoning. In some moment of madness, I forget to request that the beans be omitted from my platter. Given my prejudices on this front, it would be unfair of me to comment on these beyond to say that they were there and that I daresay that those who go in for such things would not find them unpalatable.
All other requisites were present and correct – an elegantly fried tomato, some succulent bacon, a slither of mushroom, a dob of bubble & squeak and a proud black pudding. In all, there was certainly no skimping on the ingredient head-count and it was certainly a satisfactory breakfast. Its only flaw really is the lack of any real standout feature or element, which is not something I usually look for in a breakfast unless it’s one that costs as much as the Factory House want. Then, I’m afraid, I do rather expect it – because, charming though the ‘neo-industrial’ ambience may be, if I’m going to fork out £20 for the first meal of my day then I do want it to be a bit special.
That said, the coffee really was excellent, and I’d be back for some of that without hesitation – but on this offering, there are enough places where your plate will be graced with better fare for the same price that I wouldn’t rush back for the food.
It can be hit and miss with some of the better City restaurants if you darken their doors at breakfast. Some aren’t even open. Some, as we found on our last sortie, will happily throw together a concoction of such stunning mediocrity that you wonder whether they even think of it as the same place before mi-day. Not so The Mercer. To start with, they have an selection of virgin cocktails to whet your appetite as soon as you are seated. Not wishing to pass this opportunity by, we sampled the Marmalade lemonade, and were not disappointed. A perfect morning pick-me-up, with zinging fresh lemon juice perfectly sweetened to palatability and a delicious sediment of candied orange peel sitting in the bottom and occasionally shooting up through your straw just to keep you on your toes.
The more conventional coffee-hounds were not disappointed either, as the brew here is admirable – and a satisfyingly comprehensive array of teas can be served up at a moment’s notice in proper style – complete with a very nice sort of Victorian looking tea-strainer device.
But what of the breakfast? Well here The Mercer is no sluggard either. Allowing others this time to take the measure of the full English, I opted to sample one of the various other mouth-watering options on the menu – in this case, grilled calf’s liver with bubble and squeak and bacon. The picture almost speaks for itself on this front. Is it as good as it looks? Every bit, and more so! Perfectly cooked and with an exquisite take on the bubble and squeak concept, this was a standout for me.
Of course, the Eggs Benedict here are not just Eggs Benedict either. They can be delivered as “Eggs Mercer” – with lemon and rosemary cured salmon, and a dollop of caviar – for only a few pence more than than the standard Eggs Benedict. I can only assume that there’s enough caviar hanging around ready for the lunch and dinner top-rollers to mean that that they can lure a few people into going for the eggs without making a significant dint on their supplies. Whatever the reason, it’s an excellent opportunity to indulge some of your more expensive tastes without breaking the bank.
Last but not least, the mighty full English breakfast is delivered with panache – and also with a cereal bowl sized portion of beans, but on this occasion I’m willing to overlook the offence because everything else is just so ridiculously good. I’m not convinced by the introduction of green matter to the Full English round-up either, but I’m giving the benefit of the doubt that it’s there more for aesthetic effect than for any more dubious purpose. The notion of “health” considerations surreptitiously making their way into the composition of the Full English is a truly mortifying thought, and brings back painful memories of the vile egg-white omelette that I unwittingly ordered in a poncy Washington hotel earlier this year.
So there we have it – on all counts, The Mercer is a force to be reckoned with on the breakfast scene and I would certainly not be sad to sit down there again one morning, though I would point out that it is somewhat unbecoming to hide one’s sausage under a tomato. Otherwise, no complaints!
Breakfasting venue: The Mercer
Date of breakfasting: 14 August 2013
Location: 34 Threadneedle Street, London
Nearest Tube is: Bank
The shiny exterior and glossy fittings at Bread Street Kitchen, along with the prominently displayed “Gordon Ramsay” brand, may lead you to think, as we did, that once inside you will be presented with a breakfast that would stand shoulder to shoulder with the best that the Square Mile has to offer.
Sadly, this expectation not quite met by the eating experience. It’s not that anything is outstandingly wrong – but there’s simply nothing to make this stand out from the crowd of extraordinarily good breakfasts available in the area … or indeed from the even more numerous “quite good” offerings.
Of course, there is much to be said for a good, simple breakfast menu dished up to decent standards. Only when you pay the sort of price that Bread Street are wanting, along with the (fairly) obligatory service charge then it is within rights really to expect something to demonstrate why exactly it is you’re paying over the odds, other than just to admire the charming modernity of the furniture.
A sausage placed unceremoniously between two bits of wholegrain toast is by no means something worth leaving your bed for, let alone forking out six quid plus service. I’m afraid much more gastronomic bang for the buck is needed if Bread Street is going to convince anyone that they have opened for breakfast for any other reason than just to soak up some cash on strength of the Ramsay name plonked on top of a humdrum menu delivered without any frills.
Verdict: Nice – but not for this price. Don’t bother.