"Brunching" Out
Brunch has always been one of my
favourite meal times as it spells long lazy Sunday mornings idling away with
good friends over mochas (extra hot please), indulging in hollandaise sauce,
smoked salmon, bacon, maple syrup, digging into warm chocolate croissants
oozing chocolate, you name it. My very good friends have recently moved into my
neighbourhood and since we hadn’t seen each other for a while we decided to
have brunch together. I suggested Tom’s Kitchen just for the convenience of it,
unbeknown to them, my last visit had not been much of a success, admittedly that
was over a year ago. Prior to that last visit, I think I’d almost become a
permanent fixture there, you’d know exactly where to find me especially on
Sunday mornings. I decided to give it a break when, I turned up at the Botanic
(when it had just opened) and one of the waiters recognised me with the
remarks, “what are you doing here!” I’m very good with faces and was shocked
when I knew exactly where I remembered him from. Surely everyone knows that if
either a shop assistant or waiter recognises you on the street, it’s time to
change habits or just stop shopping!!!
During that particular visit, the
food had been atrociously bad. I can’ remember the exact details, I’ve probably
wiped it out of my memory as one does all painful experiences, but all I
remember is that it was really bad! I realise that I may be a slightly “fussy” eater
but trust me it was bad! One of the things that always took me there was the
freshly baked bread and muffins they did every weekend, the latter of which one
had to arrive indecently early for as they sold like hotcakes. To my
disappointment, they’d actually stopped making fresh bread and I can’t even
remember what I had to make do with instead!
There is nothing like freshly
made bread. The smell alone instils such a warm fuzzy feeling in me that is
almost romantic (did I mention that I am a hopeless romantic?) I remember a
rather romantic experience recently in some foreign African country where I’d
gone on a work trip. Being rather brave and adventurous, I’d agreed to be taken
out dancing into the early hours of the morning by an acquaintance. As we were strolling
back to the car for the drive back to my hotel, we must have passed by a bakery
because suddenly this wonderful smell of baking bread hit us and I just stopped
in my trucks and went on and on about my love for baking bluh, bluh, bluh. Suddenly
all senses stopped working as I was given a thorough kiss, right in the middle
of the street. How romantic, I must have cast quite a picture standing there waffling
on about bread, then again he was French! Note
to self, one must conjure food images more often in male company. Let’s
just say I can never smell yeast in the same way again.
Some of my bread making attempts (it's that yeast smell you see)
 |
| Italian New Harvest Bread |
Well, back to the present, we
turned up without a booking, something you wouldn’t do in the old days (I guess
at the back of my mind I didn’t really want to be there) but got a table anyway.
Entering Tom’s Kitchen is like walking into a ware house conversion thingy, like
those found in the trendy meat market in New York, which by the way I haven’t
been to but have watched enough Sex in the City episodes to imagine what they
look like. One’s met by heavy wooden tables and chairs and really “cool”
looking people littering the place. There are even bar stools one can perch on
and boy is the view from there interesting, you can see the chefs at work. I
guess another silly romantic notion but isn’t there something so alluring about
a man sweating over a stove, I suppose less of the sweating though.
We were shown to our table and a
very lovely lady came over to take our drinks order. We decided to go for fresh
juices and I asked for extra ginger in my CAG, not expecting to get it as I
never do. When the waitress turned up with the drinks, the straw in one of the
glasses was bent and she proceeded to let us know that that was the drink with
the extra ginger, one sip of it and I knew I was in for a surprise, it was
exactly as I would have made it myself!
Our food arrived and I exclaimed
in horror when I realised I had only been given one streak of bacon, my fault of course for having ordered a half
and half, but no sooner had the words left my mouth than a side plate of bacon
arrived at the table. Very gingerly I tucked into my half and half and boy, I was
immediately transported back to my childhood. The bacon tasted like the bacon I
had as a little girl or as my mum would call it, like “real bacon” I know that
pork has to undergo some sort of curing process to create bacon but this was
actually like eating the meat off the back of a pig. When I cut into my poached
egg, I was greeted by a the most vivid of colours, saffron orange, again, took
me back home where egg yolks are the colour the setting sun and it tasted
heavenly.
I suspect the people at the next
table weren’t looking at us because we cut a pretty picture but because of all the
funny noises we were making, by now you know what I am like with food don’t
you. I tried a bit of the burger and even though it was well done, one of my
friends is pregnant, it was just out of this world. They even had a choice of
chunky chips or fries and of course being French, they went for the fries with
the homemade ketchup! The fries tasted like the ones I make at home another
testimony that they were freshly cut on the premises. I’m told the hot
chocolate was also incredible. When we mentioned all this to our waitress,
eggs, bacon etc. she went ahead to tell us how the hens are interbred for the
eggs and the pigs are a special breed left to roam the farm where they are
bred. This was so refreshing as here was someone who actually had knowledge
about what they were serving, which speaks very well for a restaurant.
My other battle with brunch
places is finding the right mocha. Don’t laugh but you will be amazed at how
wrong many places get it. But as things had gone very well so far, I decide to
order one with the usual, extra hot please! Why one even has to say that beats
me but I I’m told its part of the industry regulation, one can only heat milk
to a certain temperature. Well, it arrived in a tall glass, as it should I
hasten to add, and even thought it wasn’t as hot as I would have liked it to be
(thank God as otherwise I would have burnt my fingers on the glass) it was just
delicious, I guess it was something to do with the homemade hot chocolate.
We all left feeling very
satisfied and I’m just so glad that my old grazing ground is back! The service
was impeccable with food that put me in a good mood for the rest of the day.
Can’t wait to go back.
Of course since my African
adventure (yeast smell, kiss in the street….), I’ve taken every opportunity
there is to bake bread, the smell brings back good memories you see ;-) Below
are some more results:-
New England Rolls
Am still working at perfecting
the Pantone as my last attempt wasn’t very successful but of course I blame the
equipment.
Comments
Post a Comment