I had the most inspiring breakfast at this Edinburgh waterside restaurant
I’ve got to think differently about the best meal of the day
Recently, I went to a special one-off pop-up breakfast.
It was a collaboration between a couple of my favourite new-ish Edinburgh restaurants - one-year-old bistro Norah, and a Japanese venue, Nishiki.
I was booked in at 9am-ish. As someone who wakes up starving and eats breakfast within eight minutes of chiseling my eyes open, it was very hard for me to forgo that instant gratification.
It felt like an Iron Woman challenge to actually leave the house without eating.
I channelled the friends and family who always skip this meal entirely. They tell me that they ‘can’t face it in the morning’. Well, what a bunch of reprobates.
I feel wibbly and wonky, like a blancmange Bambi, without an early feeding. My brain wasn’t braining.
However, I made it all the way to Norah down at Newhaven on foot, with my blood sugar around my ankles.
It was worth the wait. From choices including Japanese mushrooms and marinated egg ajitama on toast, I had a gorgeous nutty and crisp granola, with a drizzle of bright green and earthy matcha syrup, neatly halved strawberries and Greek yoghurt. This was followed by a bacon and miso sandwich on sturdy soda bread, plus a strong coffee. Bliss.
I could march on a two-course breakfast like that. The happy moment stuck with me. I was buzzing for the rest of the day.
For one thing, it was lovely to sit at an actual table. I’d love to say that I always do that. In reality, I eat my breakfast in bed, while doom scrolling and sifting through work emails.
In Norah, I felt that I could gather my thoughts, while gazing out at the lighthouse and watching the dog walkers mosey by. It felt so civilised.
Since I was eating alone, I could also mindfully focus on my food. It wasn’t like dinner, when you’re chatting between mouthfuls.
Anyway, the experience made me think that I must raise my game, when it comes to breakfast a la casa.
It’s my favourite meal and yet I am so lazy and lacking in imagination. I scoff at those who repeat the same lunch every day, yet I have the same brekkie.
That consists of two Weetabix - actually, TBH, I can’t afford those, so it’s Lidl’s half-price dupe - blueberries and milk. I figure that I at least get a bit of fruit and fibre. Cup of tea first, then a flat white. At the weekend, I have a fancier granola - that Rollagranola stuff, which I buy online and has to be eked out, as it’s so pricey - plus blueberries and milk. It’s so embarrassingly unoriginal.
Still, I’d say it’s a semi-healthy routine, and certainly better than what I ate in my teens, which was a daily strawberry Pop Tart, then two fat sausages in a roll from the canteen when I got to high school. I also had a spell of a few years in my twenties, when I always had a cinnamon and raisin bagel topped with a thick paste of peanut butter and marmalade mixed together.
I remember a brief Sugar Puffs phase, too. Tell ‘em about the honey, mummy. Ah, my morning shame.
However, since the Norah breakfast, I’ve decided to make more of an effort. On social media, middle-aged women get constantly told to eat more protein, but I just can’t be bothered cooking, unless it’s the weekend. I don’t have the bandwidth for shakshuka or frittata. Mind you, if someone said they’d do me some scrambled eggs and smoked salmon, I’d happily inhale a large portion.
As Fay Weldon wrote, in her spell working as an advertising copywriter for the British Egg Marketing Board, “Go to work on an egg”. I’d probably prefer to use a bicycle, but it’s good advice nonetheless.
However, I’m generally a sweet-toothed morning person. If arteries were no object, it’d be a Twelve Triangles croissant and marmalade ad infinitum. Or, I’d hoof them without the confiture, and dip them into my coffee, like Andrea in Call My Agent. (Watch the new Netflix film, it’s so charmant).
If money were no object, I’d live at Gleneagles Hotel and have their incredible cornucopia of a brekkie spread on a daily basis.
I’d ideally like to have this meal served to me by Morecambe and Wise, doing their whole morning dance routine in their striped jim-jams.
Recently, I’ve done slightly better at breakfast, as I’ve made a few of my classic favourite Bircher muesli, which I prepared the night before, and left in the fridge.
Apparently, this dish was invented in 1900 by Swiss Physician Maximilian Bircher-Benner for the patients at his Zurich sanatorium. The internet tells me that, back then, it was served as a starter or light dinner. Eh, no, it’s clearly a breakfast item.
In my own sanatorium, when I wake up, I practically throw myself down the stairs to get at this oaty treat. I’m especially keen when there are a few flaked almonds in the mix, though I know folk who add goji berries, omega sprinkles and all sorts of fancy accoutrements. Maybe even a few chia seeds, for the protein and the sinister frog-spawny texture.
I also love porridge, but, again, cooking before 9am is a no.
Bircher’s is a start, but I am going to continue to ruminate and cogitate on the matter.
I just need to kick the faux Weetabix habit first.
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