Sunday, 26 October 2014

Weekend Brunch Rules

It's about to get eggy. I hope for your sake that you've just eaten, or by the end of this post you will be salivating all down whichever digital device you are reading from. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Today I am going to tell you about the two best brunch spots in London.

For a meal to qualify as brunch it must involve eggs and be served between the hours of 9am and 1pm. So say the rules of life. 

To best enjoy your brunch I suggest being very tired from a long week, or maybe a heavy night out. You must not have had breakfast. You must wear your comfiest clothes (yoga pants would be my recommendation) and be in the company of a non-judgemental, non-dieting and equally hungry friend. At best, brunch is enjoyed on a Saturday morning; with this you can guarantee a delightful and indulgent start to your weekend.  

Now that we are clear on the definition and ceremony of brunch, and without further ado, I give you first...

The Rapscallion, of Clapham SW4

Tea is served in a varied collection of china, demanding immediate Instagram-ification. 



The menu offers all the faves - from the traditional Full English and fluffy scrambled eggs with smoked salmon, to the more niche and continental.


Please note above a most excellent brunch option: la Croque Madame. Ever been to France and had a Croque Monsieur - bread, ham and cheese, grilled to perfection? This is his delightful wife. She comes with perfectly runny eggs, rocket and a good kick of mustard.


However le pi├Ęce-de-resistance must undoubtedly be the French toast - or, as my favourite brunch companion and I have come to calling it, Sex on a Plate. The gooey, crunchy toast is the bed, the caramelised banana is, well you have an imagination, and combined with the salty, meaty bacon, full-fat cream and tang of passionfruit, what you have here is a Mouthgasm. Prepare to have a Harry-Met-Sally reaction at the table. But fear not - no one will judge you. Such is the legendary power of Rapscallion's French toast. 

If Rapscallion's menu is naughty, this next place is nothing short of filthy.

Gail's Kitchen, of Bloomsbury WC1

Don't be fooled by the sweet and innocent name or the super friendly staff. You have come to a mouthgasm brothel. Like a horny housewife Gail's Kitchen will lure you in and then show you things you didn't know were possible. And you'll enjoy it. 


At first glance it's quite tame - salmon and eggs on a croissant, some cheeky pancakes with maple syrup and bacon. But for the more adventurous brunchers there is plenty on offer. Perhaps you would like a poached duck egg with mackerel? Or if you want to get your hands dirty how about dipping freshly baked bread in runny eggs and feta?  


When I lost my Gail's Kitchen virginity it was to this bad boy above. Crispy, sliced roast potatoes, eggs and chorizo, all smothered in tomato butter. Words cannot quite describe the pleasure of eating this magical combination. Suffice to say that the plate was licked clean.   


Once you're done, and because you've been good, there are cookies straight from the oven and a tall glass of milk to enjoy. 


Hot, delicious and naughty - what more could you ask for in a brunch? 

As you can tell, I am brunch's biggest fan. What I hadn't realised until I wrote this post was just how closely I associated the feelings of food and sex. I honestly don't know which I'd pick but, luckily, I don't have to. And neither do you!