I almost wish I had had a hangover when I went to The Breakfast Club this morning. It would have cured it in a flash, and I feel guilty that I didn’t even give it a chance. I was in fact uncharacteristically sprightly for a Saturday morning, having forgoed my ritual Friday night cocktails for orange squash, a big bowl of pasta (with homemade pesto, natch) and the latest episode of Nashville.
The Breakfast Club is something of a London institution, it was the first place to take a previously underrated meal and make it their calling card. As such there is almost always a queue outside, but stick it out and you will be duly rewarded. Inside is very relaxed and homey. It reminded me of hostels on the gringo trail in South America – scrubbed wooden tables, coloured fairy lights, bright yellow and orange walls and plenty of photographs of breakfasters past.
The menu is slightly overwhelming. Warning: you will want to eat everything. Luckily we had a very nice (read: cute) waiter who took a seat at our table while helping us decide what to order. One of my friends went for the veggie breakfast burrito, another for ‘The All American’, and after much contemplation I chose the chorizo harsh browns. We also had a big jug of fruit smoothie to share and I had my standard flat white. The food came quickly (they clearly understand that hangovers don’t mess around), and in big portions. My hash browns consisted of home style potatoes, two large spicy chorizo sausages, fried onions and peppers, chunks of creamy feta, all topped with two perfectly runny fried eggs. It wasn’t elegant or particularly special, just simple, perfectly cooked, and lipsmackingly delicious. Was it the best food I have ever eaten? No. Would I go back again tomorrow? Absolutely (and no, not just because of the cute waiter). I would go back as it is pretty much impossible to leave this place without a smile on your face, and feeling a little more at ease with the world than when you went in. Its *almost* worth getting a hangover in anticipation for.