Some may say that there is a certain element of sadness in a single stack of pancakes. Breakfast, or at least the Sunday variety, is often accompanied by endless chatter or in fact none at all – solitude shared with another as you pour over different sections of the paper. Brunch appears to be an exceptionally…
I’ve been having a bit of a love affair with wholemeal at the moment. Having been home for the holidays, my usual pack of thick, toastie bread was shunned by the family in favour of wholemeal, or worse WeightWatchers bread. That’s right folks, my time at home was filled with weighing out potatoes, crisps that…
Sunday brunches are not fast food. They are long, languid affairs and in my eyes, must be served with plenty black coffee and the Sunday papers (tabloid and broadsheet for balance, natülich). My last day in Berlin reinvigorated my love for the slowed down start to the day, and so the classic combination of…