Christmas Breakfast

My mind is turning to the insane day that is commonly known as Christmas. I won't go into any detail of my intense dislike of this time of year. Just know that I feel there is nothing redeeming about it whatsoever apart from providing an excuse to drink a lot of champagne (yeah yeah, I'm still breastfeeding. He can skip a feed or 2 now he's eating solids.) I don't even like receiving gifts, as it's generally just uncomfortable pretending to be thrilled with something you don't want or need. Just gimme the cash if you insist on parting with it, OK?

But I digress. Back to breakfast, woman.

My sister and her husband will join me, Mr Nellie, Miss 2 and Master 7mths for breckie. I have been happily salivating over cookbooks and food magazines looking for inspiration for what to present. And made the lazy-ass decision to do as little as possible.

I have convinced Mr Nellie to poach eggs (he's ace at this, and mum's giving me eggs born within the previous 24 hrs so v.fresh), and I will cook the toast and even butter it. I will also bake some friands (probably raspberry as I have 3 punnets ordered from Hill St Store which will need to be used somewhere). I have 2kg box of cherries ordered from Hill St too, so the obligatory bowl of cherries will sit as the table centrepiece. Mr Nellie, the aspiring barista, will man the KitchenAid coffee machine: (note to self: must get some fresh beans - Jasper free trade - from Hill St on Sun). And some fresh juice.

It probably won't score terribly well on the Breakfast Blog review criteria, but I don't care. I'll be relaxed, surrounded by those that matter the most to me, and hopefully wearing a nice piece of expensive new jewellery courtesy of the Man in Red.

Hope you all have a good one too. Ho Ho Ho.

Bloody Kids

I know there are some people who have been wondering why I'm so quiet atm - it's called chronic sleep deprivation, and is caused by my gorgeous but teething 7 month old baby boy. He (along with his hyper 2 year old sister) have determined that I shall not have the energy nor motivation to engage in anything resembling self-interest or pleasure for the past few weeks.

I will resume my reviews and banter as soon as I am able to stay up later than 7.30pm.

Merry Christmas all.

Say Cheese(y)

It's 8am on a Sunday morning, and I'm on the prowl at Salamanca searching for a relaxing and sublime family breakfast. Time to wake up from that sweet dream, Nellie...... Miss 2yo is testing my patience and so are the cafe proprietors who don't open until 8.30 or (for gods sake) 9.00am: how very bloody civilised of them!!! I have been up since the crack of dawn, not by choice, and need coffee urgently.

The options are limited as follows:
Zum (very tempting, but already reviewed)
Banjos (not in the least tempting)
Salamanca Bakery (ditto)
Say Cheese (only barely tempting, and only because I'm so desperate)

So we wander in, and of course are the only patrons. Except for our new friend, the thumping great cheese fridge who kindly sings and hums for us at a delightful volume, successfully competing with Miss 2yo in being an utter annoyance and hindrance to relaxation. Hmmph.

The food was fine. I almost wanted it to be bad, but it wasn't. The menu is horrendous reading though, with all kinds of corny word plays best forgotten (and I have, sorry). And very confused. Is this a creperie? or a fromagerie? or a cafe?

Okay, so the ambience in this place is the equivalent of dining in the cafeteria at the Tax Office. Where do I start? The decor is harsh and the lighting fluorescent. Nothing works for me at all. Especially not the noisy cheese fridge sitting akwardly in the middle of the dining area. And why???? Why are they flogging average pre-packaged cheeses that you could purchase at the supermarket (or Salamanca Fruit Market round the corner?) If you're going to attempt to be a cheese specialist, put in a proper cheese room for gods sake. Hrmph.

Rated 2/10
Say Cheese, Salamanca Square