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/