No. 16 The Breakfast Club, Soho London.

No 16 The Breakfast Club, Soho.




Your Editor meeting some Belgian breakfast fans
while a the man in front cranes his
neck towards his breakfast.  

This place is popular. To enjoy this restaurant you have to be willing to stand outside for half an hour before they find a place for you to sit. Whilst standing in the cold doesn’t exactly warm the cocklesas a restaurant welcome,  it did give us a chance to relive the experience of queuing for night clubs and theme park rides and also the chance to meet some of the very friendly tourist/hipster clientele that keep the tables so very full.

Once inside myself and (see breakfast No.11) John Risky did the decent thing and allowed a couple of chilly fellow diners to join us at our table in what was a winning move in the blog's first game of diner Tetris.



Fry-up Turncoat

The Breakfast

After such a mouth-watering wait I decided to go for the 'Full Monty' which was a round £10. The atmosphere in the place was laid back and spirits were high but I recoiled in horror and started to seriously doubt my dining partners commitment to fry ups when he didn't order one. Shocking.



Zippy!

The breakfast is costly and does not include a cup of tea but nevertheless it justified the expense. The 'toasted Multigrain Bloomer' was great quality and were a great stage for the eggs. Mushrooms and black pudding were lovely. The tomato could have been fried a bit longer but it went well with the 'home-style fried potatoes'. Not sure what made them home-style. The sausage was great; herby and lovely when cut in half and wrapped in half the toast.

Overall it's a great place to eat. They're really friendly there, the food is good, and it's a cosy place to sit and chew over the issues of the day. It was a great meal.



Your Editor

Needless to say afterwards I was a full English. 8/10. Could have thrown tea in.






No.15 West Middlesex University Hospital, Isleworth London

No.15 West Middlesex University Hospital

I'd imagined that hospital canteen breakfasts were little more than a flax seed smoothie and a stick of celery but it turns out that the NHS will happily clog your arteries for you and then patch you up afterwards. In the foyer to the hospital I'd walked past professionals trying to raise awareness of heart disease and it was with this put firmly to the back of my mind that I strode with undue confidence into the canteen while disinfecting my hands from the wall dispenser.

The fry up scene at the hospital was not thriving, the place was pretty much empty with only a few early morning staff members eating while watching the Oscar Pistorious verdict on 24Hour news. Despite this I was determined to see breakfast justice done.

The Fryup

Nil by mouth

The price was good. It was £2.85 for five items but I decided to go for seven which made it a bit more. The ketchup was 12p. (Shocking.)

You did get to serve yourself with tongs which was quite fun but overall this breakfast was a poor show. If you've decided to throw caution, and basic medical advice, to the wind and take on a Full English at the hospital then you should at least be able to enjoy it, but this was awful.

The sausage was such poor quality that I could have just as easily spread it on the fried bread as a pate. The fried bread was only the really positive element. It was warm and tasty but the bacon was so hard that it was more like Jerky. I was tempted to use the bacon as a leathery spoon for the beans and am now sad that I didn't.



Crowded

The black pudding was dry and fell apart when you tried to stab it with a fork. You had to use the expensive ketchup as a sort of cement to keep it together long enough to get it in your mouth. I finished it while wondering why I had finished it. All fryups suffer a bit when kept warm under lights but there is no excuse for the quality of items on offer here.

In conclusion, I'd say that if you're a hospital serving a dangerously unhealthy breakfast make sure that you do it well. Thank heavens I was only yards from A&E.

Needless to say afterwards I certainly was a full English. 5/10

No 14. Kingston University Campus Canteen.

No 14.  Kingston University Campus Canteen.



New John Grey

As your Editor is now currently a Social Work student at Kingston University (Kingston Hill Campus) it seemed only proper that I should review the fry up that is on offer at Kingston University’s inventively named ‘FoodStore’. So it was that your Editor and RTWOAFU newcomer New John Grey decided to meet early to stock on some grease before another rigorous day of squinting at Powerpoint slides and breaking into little groups for discussion.

We took our trays and moved round the ample ‘tray railway’ to the unmanned breakfast station. There was an impressive display on a flat screen above the breakfast explaining the £3 for 6 items policy. I decided to reward the trust shown by the unmanned hotplate by putting a seventh item on my plate and just staying quiet when I got to the till. The till lady dealt with me capably and just asked if I had six items knowing I had seven. I forced a note of shock in my voice and paid the extra 60 pence. Living on the edge.




...is that a bit of baguette?

The sausage was of a good quality but seemed to have been cooked a while ago. The sausage and bacon suffer more than most when left under the heat lamps for any period of time. Whereas beans or scrambled egg can sit and marinade to perfection the sausage deflates and is left a shadow of his fried plump prime. The fried bread was the real star and as it was a granary slice it was a real treat. The mushrooms lacked imagination; how hard would it be to season them a tiny bit while cooking? The hash brown was a delight and it was all washed down by a lovely tea.

The fact that if taken daily it condemns the mature students to a certain coronary, and the undergraduates to an unmanageable toilet paper bill, it had to be said the it was quite good. It lacked imagination and character but for £3 it’s amazing!

Needless to say afterwards I certainly was a full English. 7/10

 

No.13 Mid English Channel on a DFDS Seaways Ferry

 No.13  Mid English Channel on a DFDS Seaways Ferry

Ahoy Shipmates! In November RTWOFU veteran Roland and your Editor travelled to the WWI battlefields at Ypres in Belgium for the Armistice Day weekend 2013. This was done by taking our bicycles on the ferry to Dunkirk and then cycling the 50 miles to Ypres. Cycling in the wind, heavy rain and dark, we were to suffer more than any Great War veteran; enough to test any amateur historian cyclist. At least we would be fortified by an on board fry-up.


A Tray Railway


The Fry Up

Nothing undermines the digestive constitution like a rolling ferry like and a Fry Up, but it's hard to resist the treat of a Full English when giddy with oceanic travel. It was the only real choice. We dined in the romantically named 'Self-Service Restaurant' which had a panoramic view overlooking the bow. I like the set ups in these kind of canteens and have always enjoyed a 'Tray Railway' where one picks up a brightly coloured tray at the start and then pushes it round the tracks picking up food until you reach the till. The longer the better!

There was a lesser option that was cheaper but I decided to go for the 'Breakfast Special' where one could choose some seven items for about £7.50.

The mental gymnastics that went on to work out what to choose from the breakfast array was considerable. Just as I thought I had my plan worked out I was abruptly informed that you get Sausage, Bacon, Egg, Beans, and Hash Brown whether you like it or not! (Toast wasn't counted as an item: good)

The only real choice one had was which form of egg (fried) and two other items which I took as Mushrooms and Black Pudding. I felt I'd done well, and considering it had come from the underlights it was pretty enjoyable. The sausage was tasty and herby. The beans, black pudding and mushroom were commendable. The Hash Brown is an American interloper in the Full English but he was a welcome guest here and dipped nicely into the egg.

Over breakfast we talked about the journey ahead and about the battlefields which we would visit. A great way to start a journey. Needless to say afterwards I was a Full English.

7/10

No.12 Porthgwidden Beach Cafe, St Ives, Cornwall

No.12 Porthgwidden Beach Cafe, St Ives, Cornwall



On the right hand side

And so it came to pass that your Editor made the yearly pilgrimage to St Ives, Cornwall. Having arrived late the night before we got up early for a morning sea swim the next day, which was superlative. That complete we sallied forth into town to imbibe a fry up. The four was made up by a now heavily pregnant Kat (we only paid for four at the campsite!) RTWOAF veteran Roland and his girlfriend Frances; a welcome initiate to both the blog and to St Ives.

Your Editor: Looking away.

The venue chosen on this occasion was the terrace of the Porthgwidden Beach Cafe, beautifully located on one of the small beaches in St Ives. The interior of the cafe was lovely but on a sunny day it had to be the balcony.

I sat still invigorated by the sea swimming, stimulated by the conversation and awed by St Ives bay dreamily shimmering in the August morning sunshine. There is very little that can better it.




The Breakfast

 

Already half eaten by Kat.

We all opted for the "Full English": Free range egg, bacon, sausage, mushroom, tomato, beans and homemade hash browns. It was £6.95. which included a round of toast but not Tea.

Regular readers will be concerned that I will rubbish any Breakfast served on a square plate. And although it was clearly incongruous (a bit like the scene in Pretty Woman when Julia Roberts dresses up all 'classy' and it seems odd) on this occasion I was easily able to overlook the pretentious plate and be charmed by the food therein.

The quality of the constituate parts was top notch. The beans were excellent as attested here in the picture. Look at the viscosity of the sauce! Now might be a good time to dwell for a moment on bean juice viscosity. Poor beans swim around in juice and struggle for identity. Juice can even run round the plate wetting any bread. Disaster! On this occasion you could see the quality and there was never a hint that they would stream off the bread if you wanted to make a cheeky little beans on toast. Great.

The whole dish was well cooked with the sausage standing up to scrutiny and the home made Hash Brown representing a welcome circular addition. I opted to make a little sausage sandwich out of part of my sausage and half my toast and it was a real treat.

Overall this is a great breakfast venue especially when you consider the price. It's also great fun to feed the sparrows and blue tits that will eat bread out of your hand while perching bravely on the rail next to you.


Needless to say afterwards I was a Full English! 8/10

 

No11. Cafe Tipaza, Streatham, London

No11. Cafe Tipaza, Streatham, London

This one was awful. Firstly an apology to John Risky who was good enough to have me over to stay after an excellent night at his house in Streatham ('St Reatham' for anyone from North London), and then good enough to suggest the local Cafe Tipaza the morning after. However it was dreadful. A man of normally impeccable taste, I can only imagine that he is experiencing some kind of 'Stockholm Syndrome' in wanting to return.

Co-operative funeralcare is well placed

The establishment seems to be experiencing a crisis of identity. The name refers to a city on the Mediterranean coast of Algeria (perhaps not a place steeped in fry up culture), the name on the awning is 'La Florentine', whilst the sign on the wall above is keen to point out that they are a Patisserie that does wedding cakes and a broken sign on the wall once advertised Arabic lessons.

The Breakfast:

When inside we decided to have the Full English which was reasonably priced at about £5.50. We were alone apart from an old man drinking coffee and the proprietor. The interior was like a Turkish restaurant with tiled floor and metal chairs. It was frankly devoid of charm with the predominant activity being the proprietor watching The BBC's "Saturday Kitchen" on a huge television near where we were sitting. However appropriate the programming, it was so loud it made conversation difficult and we had to risk annoyance and ask it to be turned down which he did.




John receiving a culinary kick in the crotch.

Lets face it: this place needs a scrub but the problem is  the food. Where do I start? The sausage represents a new low for quality on the blog and may be the worst item ever served in blog history. Not only that it was grey and cut in half like four grey Minimilks. The quality of them was sub Netto frankferter. I can only imagine the array of animals therein...mostly chicken lips. Bacon was bland and thick but cooked, the mushrooms (hidden by the bacon in this image) seemed acquainted at some point with the grill.

The tomato less so; it seemed to have been just cut in half and laid on. The real crime was the egg. Enough to make Edwina Curry soil herself, it was only half cooked. Like a white paddling pool the mushrooms were having a great time in there but honestly it was a dangerous. Shame.

The beans were good! Obviously OK quality. The toast was OK but was also a bit in the egg so most of the meal had to be left. A real rarity.

Awful.

He even had the cheek to ask us how it was on the way out. Not knowing where to start I said OK and went out into the Streatham drizzle.

2/10

Needless to say I was a Full English (but I was only full of annoyance)

No.10 The Watch House Cafe, West Bay, Wessex, England.

No.10 The Watch House Cafe, West Bay, Wessex, England.




Bottom right, with the place we stayed poking out behind.

It was only a few short weeks ago that over twenty of your Editor's friends went to stay in the great 'Ship Cottage', a beach cottage in West Bay, Dorset. It was all in aid of both my 30th birthday and also letting the good times roll. With a medicinal sherry or two being had by revellers in the evenings, it was vital to have a restorative Dorset Fry-Up in the mornings.

The closet and best place was 'The Watch House Cafe', about 30ft of stumbling distance from the cottage. Let's be honest it wasn't really a 'Cayfe'. There was a more of a greasy spoon round the corner, but I'm a big fan of the beach front bars/cafes so it was here that we went.


Tom in a rare moment between important Phd research.
(Our Cottage Top Right)

It was very stormy over the weekend, but the morning in question was warm enough to sit out on the cafe's sun deck, so we did. By the time I shuffled over there Tom Parkinson, Vella and Rali were already there.

On lining up at the counter I, as ever, asked for a 'Full English' and without fuss this was taken to mean the: "Fishermen’s Breakfast: Old English sausage, bacon, soft fried Dorset hens egg, roasted field mushroom, slow roasted tomatoes, baked beans and fried granary bread – £8.95". To be honest there is very little that a breakfast can do to crawl its way back from that kind of price. It's a bit like a kick in the crotch from the staff when you walk in: the meal could still be enjoyable but itls hard to remember the establishment with affection. (For the concrete thinkers out there, there wasn't an actual kicking and the staff were really friendly)

Despite the shocking price the place was undeniably lovely and popular. Such was the queue behind me that I only had a moment to look indignant before getting my tenner out and getting two pathetic coins in return.

The Breakfast.

Okay I'm going to say it:...this wasn't a real fry-up. Perhaps we could think of it as a 'Posh-Up'. I might have been able to overlook the price and the stubborn refusal to write the ingredients in single words on the menu but the real give-away is the bowl.

Readers, always be wary of being served a fry-up in a bowl. This is not proper. Are they worried about the elements spilling out onto the table or do they imagine that you could mash it all up into a sort of soup? In any case it's madness and a thinly disguised attempt to make an unhealthy, down to earth dish seem somehow more opulant. Take heed fryers: chic isn't wanted here, save it for your Eggs Benedict (which is what Rali had). Look at it: if this breakfast were a football team it would be a load of awkward Premiership millionares who had never met. There is no team spirit here.



"I wish I'd got the Eggs Benedict": Vella can't help
looking at the next plate with regretful eyes. (He later ate the table, cup
and his right hand)

In the event it was really tasty! The 'Old English Sausages' didn't taste one bit old and were a nice size and quality. The Mushroom was the real star tastewise. Like a great seaside umbrella it was something special; most wonderful when dipped in the egg. The bread was high quality and despite it going a bit cold in the onshore wind the bacon was salty and lovely. I would however prefer that they summon the confidence to butter my bread for me rather than putting it in little packets next to the toast. Anyone eating all this and worrying about butter on bread is insane.

 Overall the place and beach is well worth a look in if you're in Dorset.



Needless to say afterwards I was a Full English!

P.S. What made the whole thing total bloody madness was that fifteen meters away we had all the elements for a fine fryup at the cottage.



www.watchhousecafe.co.uk/