Brixton market is always a somewhat surreal experience, by virtue of how un-London the whole place is – more similar to a marketplace in Marrakech than our urban jungle. It’s also one of the few places where virtually all restaurants (bar one) are cash only. As I found out tho, it’s also the home of one of London’s must visit breakfast places.
There was a soft autumn light which poured itself inside the pub – which is strange given that it is only the beginning of spring. The Calf was eerily quiet, as many places tend to be at this time of the day, but I’ve always found that to be a perk, and it meant we could easily pick whichever part of the pub to accommodate us.
Freud has been a great influence in both psychology and culture (besides the fact that the man had a fantastic beard), and it’s quite the mental exercise to try and think what kind of bars he would have frequented. In truth, Freud (the bar) has been something that was quite well seen on the London circuit and for very good reasons.
The calavera, also know as a “sugar skull”, is a now a mainstream identifier of Mexico. The calavera actually comes from Dia de los Muertos, Day of the Dead, which is a celebration of, well, you’ve got it, the dead. It involves food, another central staple of Mexican culture, and Mole Taco Bar is a perfect ode to that celebration of death and life.
The cakes are scattered around the room, kept safely under their little glass dome, much alike the rose in Beauty & the Beast (I can’t help it that is what those things make me think about all the time). Much akin to the random spread of cakes, the furniture itself is an ode to the Brownian motion – which is really what the theatre is behind the curtains.
Deciding a good place to brunch is never as easy as TV series would depict, where characters seemingly wake up with divine providence of where to go. Instead, there’s more of a barrage of queries such as “will we even get a table there”, “how far is it”, and, my favorite, “will it have a nice enough bathroom if the detox juice gives me the looseys (I wanted to find a cuter word for diarrhea)?”. Alright, you got me, that last one is actually my sisters favorite question but I like to be inspired.
Getting back to the topic, it’s harder to find a brunch place when one of the questions is “will they let me take pictures of topless men in their restaurant?”
Min Jiang, self declared London’s most authentic Chinese restaurant (note how the duck was brought out by a white man so not so sure what authentic means), is certainly one to visit. It has a great combination of high quality food, impressive view over London (perhaps not as impressive as the Shard but from this side of the city it’s as much as you can get), and good service.
The cabin-like wooden interior, together with the baskets of croissants and madeleines lying about quickly made me think of a chalet when entering tart. Surely enough, chalets aren’t necessarily French but I can’t control my thought processes all that much.
Frizzante is the place where I imagine Maria from The Sound of Music, after having moved to the City of London to become an investment banker, would go to have a cheeky breakfast, reminiscing the times when she was prancing and singing in the meadows, somewhere in an unspecified Austrian mountain. It’s the kind of place she would have gone back in the good old days.
I seem to be rather obsessed with going down memory lane lately, with another post that plunges me back into the depths of my youth and makes me remember kindergarten. Mind you, I did go to kindergarten in Eastern Europe, next to a decrepit building where, all the kids could tell you wholeheartedly, a witch lived – so whether this association is good or bad can be left to the imagination.