Towpath Café

B and I have run past the Towpath Café on Regent's Canal many, many times. Every time I've looked with envy at the happy people sitting in the sun, sipping coffee, tucking into breakfast, cake, coffee, cocktails and lunch while I trot on past, admiring the eclectic mix of furniture and the tiny, narrow kitchen right which almost pours out on to the pathway. Today being recovery day, we meandered up the canal at a slower pace, moving aside to let the runners and cyclists pass, admiring the warehouses with beautiful balconies and long windows overlooking the waterway, until we arrived at breakfast. 

We looked around dubiously as there was a spare table in the sun that noone was fighting over on this bizarrely sunny Sunday morning. It was only when I realised that we were there really rather early for a Sunday (sleeping in is not my forte) that it all made sense. Coffees soon arrived and a little while later (lots of rumbling from my tummy by this point), breakfast followed. Creamy, steaming porridge with caremaly oranges and lumps of melting dark brown sugar for me. Why is it that no porridge I ever make at home is as good as this? Something I plan to rectify soon. I think it might have to involve dismissing porridge as a healthy start to my day. B had the simply described 'Fried eggs on toast'. Simple it was, but in the best way. Slices of lightly toasted sourdough piled high, with runny yolked fried eggs layered on top, the edges crispy and dark. As a final flourish, the buttery frying liquids had been poured over the top. Yum was the consensus. More proof that butter is always a good thing.

A perfect breakfast spot for a sunny weekend morning. Get there early before the crowds arrive, as they did when we got up to leave.

Towpath Café, Regent's Canal Towpath, N1 5SB

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Village East at Bermondsey

To celebrate not doing the marathon this year, we went out for brunch. 

Village East is the older sister of one of my favourite brunch hangouts, the Riding House Café. Village East is similar, but with a more 'exposed brickwork' vibe.

Another fabulous foodie hangout on Bermondsey Street. Several seating areas make it feel intimate, a variety of large tables, sharing tables, bar stools, armchairs, lots of reclaimed wood and bashed metal, and the perfect amount of impeccable design. A favourite being the red salt and pepper shakers and constant water refilling. Yes, I'm easily pleased.

Having sheepishly asked for the coffee and juice menu when we had been handed the cocktail list and wine list (we're not that cool), glasses of colourful, zingy liquids arrived. The food menu could then be examined.

The juices were tasty and on the right side of health-giving. C's was the favourite, laced with coconut water as it was. Coconut water is the answer to most of my prayers right now.

I had soon devoured my Eggs Florentine (again, I know, I'm sorry, but I can't resist), C her bowl of steaming porridge, and B his 'Campfire breakfast', otherwise known as pork, homemade baked beans, and fried eggs. Lots of yummmms and smiles all round.

The service was perfect, just the right amount of attention without being too overbearing and intimidating. And the bill didn't make too big a dent in my wallet. 

We walked home in the sun, feeling slightly guilty for the lack of marathon running, but with happy tummies, and discussions of possibly running the marathon next year. But maybe I'll just go for brunch again instead.

Highlight: Perfectly poached eggs

Lowlight: Juice envy

Village East, 171 - 173 Bermondsey Street, London, SE1 3UW

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Barcelona Breakfast #1

I am a morning person. And a breakfast person. This always seems to prove a problem when travelling. I've been known to carry kilos of oats with me on trips abroad in the hope of finding a hob, some non-UHT milk and some runny honey to create my morning medicine.

Travelling only hand luggage to get to Barcelona allowed for no such treatment. And it was clear that the swanky Hotel Pulitzer (thank you Mr and Mrs Smith for yet another perfect hotel recommendation) was not going to give me a mini kitchen in my sleek, chic,  and minimalist room. So the first morning saw a quick gym session and a not so quick shower, before we set out on a breakfast hunt. Heading vaguely towards the Sagrada Familia as we did so. 

It was a moment of sheer happiness when we rounded the corner to find Granja Petitbo.  (This was a planned stumbling upon - breakfast is not a meal which gets left to chance). The place we had been searching for was there, was open, and was serving proper breakfast. And no, by 'proper' I do not mean the full English extravaganza that many places on the Rambla de Catalunya offer. By proper I mean coffee, fresh juices, oats, pastries, eggs, all a  far cry from the 'overpriced buffet in an generic continental hotel' standard fare. With zingy juices in vintage glasses, strong mugs of coffee, and surrounded by the Barcelona Steve Jobs fan club working away, we settled down in the leather armchairs and tucked into brioche with peanut butter and banana for me, and spiced porridge with apricot jam for B. The brioche was bouncy and perfectly toasted. The peanut butter satisfied me in my full time roll of peanut butter addict. And porridge, which people in the UK can't even seem to get right, was delicious, and put our homegrown porridge making skills to shame. Must try harder. 

Exactly the stuff we needed to fill those tums in preparation for a traditional tourist filled day. 

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