Monday was an unexpected treat for several reasons; not only did I have an impromptu day off (HURRAH for self-employment) but my bestie and her man were also mooching around London recovering from Field Day. Taking advantage of this happy, happy coincidence, we decided to have brunch near where they were staying at the Cafe in Victoria Park.
Because I was feeling virtuous/mental I got up early and ran to VP along the canal. Unfortunately as soon as I passed the ‘too late to turn back’ point the heavens *actually* opened so I arrived cold, soggy and not a little grumpy (FYI googlemaps, 4.5 miles MY ARSE). However, I was also STARVING which was the object of the exercise, and a gorgeously smooth flat white (or two) and a nice sit down soon cheered me up.
The Lakeside Pavilion is right in the heart of Victoria Park and on a sunny day it must be a beautiful spot to sit and back and watch the world go by. Unfortunately, as I’ve already mentioned, the weather was anything but seasonal (WTF June??) so we opted to sit indoors once I’d recovered from my exertions. Inside is fine; pretty basic and has a bit of a canteen feel to it BUT look at the menu…
^ One of everything for me pleasethankyou
And LOOK at the cardamon buns ^ I’m so upset that I forgot to buy one, ah well, I’ll have to go back #nevermind
E and C both had the Sri Lankan breakfast because they were feeling adventurous. It was tasty; the daal was flavoursome yet not-too-spicy in the way I imagine daal at breakfast should be, and the curry was delicate and coconutty and again not too spicy. And yet… and yet… as well as being tasty it was also kind of weird. I’m hardly ‘vanilla’ in my brunch habits, but we all agreed that it just felt a little bit odd to be eating this before noon. Maybe we need to broaden our horizons, but both E and C reckoned their choices the previous day (the bacon and egg sandwich and the eggs royale) were much better.
^ I mean, it does look kind of odd as well…
MY brunch on the other hand was a triumph *smug face*. Two huuuuge slices of tasty sourdough bread, topped with the tomatoey-ist tomatoes I’ve ever tasted (‘heritage’, dontcha know), delicate, creamy burrata, a hint of fennel and – wait for it – a couple of anchovies. Cheese and fish shouldn’t work, but the saltiness of the anchovies cut through the creaminess of the burrata and when you combined it with the subtle aniseediness (yes, it’s a word) of the fennel it was just perfect.
I was really full – as well as still being quite soggy – so I got the bus home. So what?