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ventaSaturday was planned to be the sort of busy day with weird timings where you're never quite sure where the meals are going to fit in. The only sensible way to take on a day like that is to start with a really hoofing breakfast.
My reaction would usually be to cook one, or to head up to the pizza restaurant which (slightly unexpectedly) does decent eggs Benedict of a Saturday morning. ChrisC insisted we should head to The Walpole, a small, scarlet-painted greasy spoon at the other side of Ealing. We've been meaning to investigate rumours of its greatness for some time but... well...
Your average greasy spoon fry-up seems to be made from window bacon, fried until it's a shrapnel risk. And the sort of cheap sausages which have a strange cylindrical skin and about 20% pork content. Add a frilly fried egg and some tinned tomatoes and you've got a breakfast concept that has sadly lost its way. So: I'm rarely excited about the idea of a fry-up. I will, if presented with one, eat it. Of course.
Apparently, according to everyone everywhere, the reason that fry-ups of even inferior quality are exciting is that they contain bacon. Don't get me wrong, I don't dislike bacon. I'm not some kind of dangerous heretic, y'know. It's great in things, I just wouldn't choose to eat it by the rasher unless it was really special bacon. If I'm going to have a breakfast butty I'd rather it had sausages in. Or eggs. Or both.
However, on Saturday morning I resigned myself to a fry-up. I was pleased to note that the Walpole had an individual-bits menu, so you can pick and choose... and then I got quite excited. I ordered hand-carved ham, bubble and squeak, and two fried eggs and when it arrived it was fantastic. I think of bubble and squeak as a fried dish, but this tasted almost like it had been cooked in the oven with stock. The eggs were not in the least frilly, the yolks were runny, and the ham was big, chunky slices. I hoovered it up without stopping and then banged on about how brilliant it was for the rest of the day.
The fry-up ChrisC ordered (apart from being somewhat on the immense side) actually looked quite appealing too, with quality sausage and bacon, and a huge pile of other stuff. And it had bubble and squeak (though there was some muttering about whether a green vegetable had any place in a fry-up).
So maybe I can get over my increasing fry-up antipathy. To be honest, the place had won me over as soon as I realised that the tables are covered with thick brown paper and on each (among the sauces and sugar) is a glass full of crayons. I drew trailing vines across the corner of the table while waiting for my food to arrive, and we played Boxes afterwards while I finished my mug of tea.
The Walpole also serves evening meals at weekends, making it the only greasy spoon I've ever been in which has a wine list. I wonder if one can order wine with breakfast? They don't serve it by the glass, but I am tempted - just once - to go and order a half bottle of red with my breakfast. Just... because.
My reaction would usually be to cook one, or to head up to the pizza restaurant which (slightly unexpectedly) does decent eggs Benedict of a Saturday morning. ChrisC insisted we should head to The Walpole, a small, scarlet-painted greasy spoon at the other side of Ealing. We've been meaning to investigate rumours of its greatness for some time but... well...
Your average greasy spoon fry-up seems to be made from window bacon, fried until it's a shrapnel risk. And the sort of cheap sausages which have a strange cylindrical skin and about 20% pork content. Add a frilly fried egg and some tinned tomatoes and you've got a breakfast concept that has sadly lost its way. So: I'm rarely excited about the idea of a fry-up. I will, if presented with one, eat it. Of course.
Apparently, according to everyone everywhere, the reason that fry-ups of even inferior quality are exciting is that they contain bacon. Don't get me wrong, I don't dislike bacon. I'm not some kind of dangerous heretic, y'know. It's great in things, I just wouldn't choose to eat it by the rasher unless it was really special bacon. If I'm going to have a breakfast butty I'd rather it had sausages in. Or eggs. Or both.
However, on Saturday morning I resigned myself to a fry-up. I was pleased to note that the Walpole had an individual-bits menu, so you can pick and choose... and then I got quite excited. I ordered hand-carved ham, bubble and squeak, and two fried eggs and when it arrived it was fantastic. I think of bubble and squeak as a fried dish, but this tasted almost like it had been cooked in the oven with stock. The eggs were not in the least frilly, the yolks were runny, and the ham was big, chunky slices. I hoovered it up without stopping and then banged on about how brilliant it was for the rest of the day.
The fry-up ChrisC ordered (apart from being somewhat on the immense side) actually looked quite appealing too, with quality sausage and bacon, and a huge pile of other stuff. And it had bubble and squeak (though there was some muttering about whether a green vegetable had any place in a fry-up).
So maybe I can get over my increasing fry-up antipathy. To be honest, the place had won me over as soon as I realised that the tables are covered with thick brown paper and on each (among the sauces and sugar) is a glass full of crayons. I drew trailing vines across the corner of the table while waiting for my food to arrive, and we played Boxes afterwards while I finished my mug of tea.
The Walpole also serves evening meals at weekends, making it the only greasy spoon I've ever been in which has a wine list. I wonder if one can order wine with breakfast? They don't serve it by the glass, but I am tempted - just once - to go and order a half bottle of red with my breakfast. Just... because.
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no subject
Date: 2012-11-12 04:46 pm (UTC)I like my bacon rather rare, I don't understand the whole crispy thing. Although I agree that hash browns are a pretty good component. I like eggs in all forms, but would go for poached for preference.
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Date: 2012-11-12 05:06 pm (UTC)