Olive Caff, W1T
I can only begin to apologise for what is an unacceptably long absence from the world of Breakfast Blogging (if such a ghastly thing indeed exists). Eggsley has been a busy bee, with job hunting beginning to take a weary toll on my ability to consume greasy and disgusting (yet delicious) food alongside concerns about my arteries deterring my desire to ram sausages down my slimy oesophagus.
That said, you can’t put an end to a great thing like breakfast, and if there’s one place that does breakfast well, it’s Olive.
Simpsons-in-the-Strand, WC2R
I have often wondered how one should go about defining “abysmal” with regards to a Full English Breakfast; how bad does a fry-up need to be in order to be so repulsive as to be entirely inedible? The answer, it seems, is that all it needs is an outrageously high opinion of itself, absolutely no care and attention and a price tag that would make even the wealthiest greasehound weep.
Ladies and Gentlemen of my readership, I give you the odious, pretentious and disgusting sinking ship that is Simpsons-in-the-Strand.
Café Fresco, W1T
Located just next to Goodge Street station, your humble Eggsley has been frequenting Café Fresco’s charming environs for nearly four years now. Fresco – and it does indeed offer an al fresco dining experience, albeit a rather barebones one – is a charming independent café (I’m still atoning for my sins) that offers complementary reading material that all too quickly reveals the desired audience (hint: frequenters of The Breakfast Club, Hoxton branch are not welcome). One can often while away a morning here, face buried in The Sun, piece of toast in hand and builders tea on the side. It’s a truly fantastic place for a breakfast epiphany (I knew I’d manage to wrangle that sentence in one day).
Bar Bruno, W1F
I’m sure that my absence was bitterly noted, and unfortunately Herr Eggsley (as I am occasionally known) really doesn’t have an excuse for the poor frequency of his contributions to the World Wide Web.
Once again, jaunts and various (obviously very important) meetings have led Eggsley into the violently-pumping heart of London that is Soho, this time bringing your sausage-stuffing friend to a mainstay of the area: Bar Bruno.
The Breakfast Club, W1F
As their ludicrously trendy website illustrates, The Breakfast Club is a far cry from the greasy spoons yours truly is used to visiting.
Having originated in humble Soho, The Breakfast Club (not to be confused with the stellar 80s movie, mind, no matter how hard they try to push their “love for the Eighties”) has been hard at work on the asexual reproduction front: Angel, Spitalfields and - surprise, surprise - Hoxton are all now host (I wonder why?) to the delights of this breakfast café restaurant brasserie …place.
Café A’Thai, EC1M
Weather-wise, this summer seems to be getting no better, and a trip to Europe (France and Germany - thoughts on their respective…attempts (shall we say) to make a breakfast are soon to come) yielded no less overcast clouds and rain. A subsequent health binge brought about by my loathsome inactivity, and seemingly insatiable desire to consume anything and everything presented to me, resulted in a rather drastic decrease in my consumption of everyone’s favourite greasy goodness.
Moonlight Cafe, N19
As the rain tumbles down upon the roads of Tufnell Park on this July morning, Eggsley and Lurvensteen venture out to Moonlight Cafe, perhaps the best cafe on Brecknock Road (suggestions welcome).
The decor is welcomingly uninspiring, with a wall-mounted television quietly mumbling nonsense in the background, adding some texture to the repugnant sound of feeding human beings. The owners are polite and very speedy, with a warm, welcoming smile that your humble misanthrope looks forward to before gorging on greasy, belly-busting, heart attack-inducing grub.
