Elbows Café, Hackney
Elbows Café
Victoria Park
103 Lauriston Road
Hackney
E9
020 8986 2466
by Cathy Latte
I’ve awoken with a peculiar desire for vigorous exercise. I flop out of bed and off to the gym.
The thick-necked demonic woman on the rowing machine is very distracting, I have a vision of her pulsing calf vein leaping out and exploding on the wall. I feel a bit ill. Maybe I got up too fast. I plan breakfast to take my mind of it.
With a renewed zest Peggy Bread and I bound into Elbows taking our seats in big wicker chairs, the kind Cheshire housewives choose for their conservatories. They sit a little awkwardly not quite under the table, but that’s ok. Peg orders scrambled eggs and ham, the same for me but with veg. The breakfast menu’s not extensive and if you don’t like eggs then you’re a bit screwed. But there’s something virtuous about Elbows; not being surrounded by beer infused saturate cravers for a start, where toast’s served drizzled with olive oil not dripping with butter, where children guzzle nutrient soaked snacks. And it’s not that pricey either.
Food arrives and I’m about to tuck in when Peggy trumpets proudly “It’s a sprout!” As I turn she almost takes out my right eye with the impaled fork she’s waggling wildly around. Peggy, daughter of a Major is doing a marvellous impression of a flag waving, arsenal capturing lieutenant. But by darn it the girl’s right. Our fluffy eggs are punctuated with all manner of greens: sprouts, courgettes, spinach, pepper, peas. I know what you’re thinking. Sprouts and peas? And at breakfast? It should make no sense, but by golly it does, and I don’t even like sprouts. I don’t know what sauce they put on the accompanying salad but it tastes bloody great.
My oh my, what a saintly morning, I think, collating a nice big forkful of vegetation.
Victoria Park
103 Lauriston Road
Hackney
E9
020 8986 2466
by Cathy Latte
I’ve awoken with a peculiar desire for vigorous exercise. I flop out of bed and off to the gym.
The thick-necked demonic woman on the rowing machine is very distracting, I have a vision of her pulsing calf vein leaping out and exploding on the wall. I feel a bit ill. Maybe I got up too fast. I plan breakfast to take my mind of it.
With a renewed zest Peggy Bread and I bound into Elbows taking our seats in big wicker chairs, the kind Cheshire housewives choose for their conservatories. They sit a little awkwardly not quite under the table, but that’s ok. Peg orders scrambled eggs and ham, the same for me but with veg. The breakfast menu’s not extensive and if you don’t like eggs then you’re a bit screwed. But there’s something virtuous about Elbows; not being surrounded by beer infused saturate cravers for a start, where toast’s served drizzled with olive oil not dripping with butter, where children guzzle nutrient soaked snacks. And it’s not that pricey either.
Food arrives and I’m about to tuck in when Peggy trumpets proudly “It’s a sprout!” As I turn she almost takes out my right eye with the impaled fork she’s waggling wildly around. Peggy, daughter of a Major is doing a marvellous impression of a flag waving, arsenal capturing lieutenant. But by darn it the girl’s right. Our fluffy eggs are punctuated with all manner of greens: sprouts, courgettes, spinach, pepper, peas. I know what you’re thinking. Sprouts and peas? And at breakfast? It should make no sense, but by golly it does, and I don’t even like sprouts. I don’t know what sauce they put on the accompanying salad but it tastes bloody great.
My oh my, what a saintly morning, I think, collating a nice big forkful of vegetation.
posted by London Review of Breakfasts |
8:17 PM |
4 Comments:
Thank goodness you good eggs have posted again. I thought you'd died and gone to sausage heaven.
The Elbow Cafe was a very pleasant surprise when we first happened upon it. The breakfast was delicious, abundant, and affordable, as was the lentil soup. However, the return trip was far less enjoyable. The back 'greenhouse' dining area was chilly, the service was noticeably lax, and the soup was just not the same (the breakfast did still stand up). Was is something to do with the absence of the middle aged man behind the counter? The young staff just didn't seem to care about the food or the service.
The 'phone number is incorrect and I cannot find it anywhere. Did the disconnect?
The siren call of an outside table bathed in sunshine drew me and Mr H into Elbows. My scrambled eggs and roasted vegetables came with a salad, the whole lot soggy and swimming in oil. It might have been better with bread but the bread was bog-standard brown sliced so I wouldn't count on it. The texture of the scrambled eggs was was watery and strangely granular, not light and creamy like homemade ones. I was ravenous but this was so unlike what I felt like eating for breakfast that I left my food half eaten. Mr H, on the other hand, really enjoyed his plate of eggs, ham and salad, so maybe it was just me.
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