Win a signed copy of The Breakfast Bible

Breaking news: we have three signed copies of The Breakfast Bible to give away.

For a chance to win our compendium of recipes, facts, essays and wild theories (see what people have been saying about it here and here), all we ask is that you tell us about a real place that has a breakfasty name.

Here's an example: Bacon Street, just off Brick Lane in London. Or the village of Bean, in Kent. If you know one already, great. If not, be a detective (or use the internet).

Leave your answers in the comments section below. You'll only be eligible if you're the first person to suggest a place, which means the sooner you enter, the easier it will be.

The competition will close at 6pm on Tuesday 7 May and we'll pick the winners at random. If you've left a comment anonymously, you should check back later that week to see if you're a victor. Good luck!

Special dispatch: bills, Sydney, Australia

bills
433 Liverpool St
Darlinghurst
Sydney, NSW 2010
Australia
+61 (2) 9360 9631
www.bills.com.au

by Sunni Sidup

There are certain unquestionable truths that you grow up with as an Australian. Christmas will always be scorching; Vegemite is a perfectly decent thing to eat; thongs are things that you wear on your feet; Richie Benaud will dominate the airwaves in the summertime; Asian food is cheap and resolutely delicious; suntans are a right; ‘mate’ is a suitable greeting for people you don’t like or even know; and somewhere, along the line, your family members are likely to have come from somewhere else.

It’s not until these family members come to visit – curious to get a glimpse of their antipodean cousins – that you begin to question such naturalised notions. Suddenly the eating of Vegemite is scorned; ‘thongs’ are deemed wholly inappropriate attire; red-faced relatives look uncomfortable wearing shorts to Christmas lunch. Everything you once thought was normal is now, apparently, not. And this extends to your breakfast garnish.

It has recently been brought to my attention that Australian cafes cannot serve breakfast without a side of rocket. This is something that most Australians likely will have noted but never questioned; we are far too busy merrily chomping the bitter leaf down with our poached eggs on soy and linseed. Malcolm Eggs, the editor of this blog and, incidentally, the person who observed this strange phenomenon, has asked me to get to the bottom of it. I asked friends, waitstaff and everyday Australians why we felt the need to garnish our breakfast plates with fancy lettuce. Here is what they came up with:

1) Rocket is to spinach what Australian Breakfast tea is to English Breakfast tea: essentially the same thing but with our own stubborn take on it.
2) It’s a cheap way to fill up a big plate. And Australian cafes love a big, white plate.
3) Rocket is an aspirational lettuce. It reflects our dreams of home ownership and quarter acre
lawns.
4) Rocket is peppery, robust and dynamic – like all most Australian men.
5) Like quinoa, macchiatos and merguez, a little bit of rocket (sorry, arugula) makes us feel cultured on a daily basis.
6) Rocket is just the contemporary version of semi-sundried tomatoes and pesto.
7) It’s a lifestyle thing, y’know?

None of the above is particularly enlightening. So ingrained is rocket in our daily consumption that we have come to think of it as a desirable – perhaps even essential – condiment. No one that I spoke to was averse to the dear old leaf. But then no one had paid much attention to it either. Like sands through the hourglass, so rocket was slipping by unnoticed: a constant, but insignificant part of our daily Australian lives.

I knew there was only one place I could go to put this theory to the test; that quintessentially Australian stalwart of the breakfast dining scene, bills. Opened by Bill Granger (the Flaxen-haired, forever-barbequing, food magazine pin-up) in 1993, the original bills in Darlinghurst is still the veritable breakfast of choice for Sydney’s early risers.

Located in an area of Sydney once colloquially known as ‘Razorhurst’, these days the bills morning crowd are more ‘push-bike’ than ‘Push’ gang. On a Saturday morning the place is full of shiny, happy people. There is not a hangover in sight. Lycra is the attire of choice. Soy lattes are ordered freely. A chef darts out and returns with a bag of green leaves. I order a stack of sweetcorn fritters; my companion a ‘full aussie breakfast’. We sit back and wait for the rocket onslaught to begin.

But lo – what is this? We both get spinach with our meals. The woman at the table next to me has boiled eggs with a side of salsa. A trendy youth across the room orders a wagyu beef burger which comes without any form of lettuce. The only green side option on the menu is avocado. I feel as though my brain is going to implode. My faith in Australian stereotypes is shattered. You can discount everything I have written above. Who am I? Where am I? And why is there no rocket!?

The Breakfast Bible: what people are saying (part two)

Earlier round-up here. Buy The Breakfast Bible at any bookshop or online, for example here, here or here.

Jonathan Gibbs, The Independent: "If cook books work then it’s in giving some kind of context to the recipes they contain. Now, obviously for some people, a picture of a cheeky Essex lad perched on a scooter, or a culinary goddess coyly sampling her wares gives all the context you need – flicking through one of these books is like flicking through a magazine. Alternatively you might want some information to browse, which is where The Breakfast Bible seems to offer a neat solution. Written by Seb Emina ‘and’ Malcolm Eggs (the same person) based on ‘their’ London Review of Breakfasts blog, it’s essentially a cross between a recipe book and Schott’s Miscellany, with its recipes interspersed with essays, facts and diversions. I particularly like the ‘Songs to Boil an Egg to’." [Read more]

Alex Heminsley and Claudia Winkleman, BBC Radio 2 Arts Show: "We are literally weeping! Weeping with joy."

Josh Raymond, The Times Literary Supplement: "Emina devotes a chapter to each of "The Magic Nine" components of a full English fry-up and goes on to describe "fast-breakers" from around the world, interspersing recipes and advice on buying ingredients with short essays on subjects ranging from reading tea leaves to breakfast proverbs. "Songs to Boil an Egg to" stands out by providing pieces of music whose durations correspond to cooking times (Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone" will, ironically, yield only "medium"). Other, more complex, directions produce flavoursome results – the "omelette Arnold Bennett" combines haddock, gruyere and nutmeg – and the language is toothsome too. The supermarket cereal aisle is "a dazzling cardboard Manhattan" and bacon is "the last temptation of the vegetarian and the Jew". Of eating breakfast in bed, we are asked, "are you feeling decadent and pampered, or imprisoned and a little squalid? This attractively produced book is deceptively ambitious."

Seb Emina (co-author), The Guardian Review: "Breakfast is not love, or war, or death, or life. It is not one of the great themes of literature." [Read more]

David Leafe, The Daily Mail: "Nutritionists might shudder at some of his choices, but Churchill obviously appreciated what they have been telling us for years — that breakfast is the most important meal of the day, or the ‘sexiest’, according to the American poet Anne Sexton. That message is at the heart of an entertaining new book called The Breakfast Bible, written by food journalist Seb Emina. The most fascinating passages describe the breakfasts enjoyed by famous people over the centuries." [Read more]

Nikki Spencer, Living South (cover story): "It's a practical book, but an entertaining book, too, including good songs to boil an egg to (Roxette's Listen to Your Heart, apparently) and a page of Freud's Breakfast Dream."

Kerstin Rodgers, Ms Marmite Lover: "Breakfast is a neglected meal in terms of cookery books, until the twin-headed Seb/Malcolm wrote the recently released and rather brilliant 'The Breakfast Bible'. Written in customary witty style, with great research into the origins of breakfast food stuffs, musings on the philosophy of the first meal, this book reminds me of Schotts Miscellaney, lots of fun facts but with recipes." [Read more]

Carolyn Hart, The Lady: "The Breakfast Bible, published by Seb Emina, founder of the cheekily named (given the august presence of the similarly titled London Review Books) The London Review Of Breakfast blog. Emina and his merry gang of breakfast bloggers - Blake Pudding, HP Seuss, Poppy Tartt and Malcolm Eggs - have been described as a 'band of breakfast-obsessed radicals', bestowing the same amount of serious attention on breakfast as you might on Ian McEwan's latest novel..." [Read more]

Hannah Rose, Capture the Castle: "Finally getting to live my breakfast tray dream, thanks to a generous Easter Bunny and Freedom Furniture. I can't even begin to relay the delight when I received my gift - the gift of breakfast - a stripey oversized mug, the glorious, glorious, glorious (the third glorious is necessary, trust me) Breakfast Bible by Seb Emina." [Read more]

James Ramsden, Guardian Word of Mouth blog: "The Great British fry-up? This is the most overrated of British dishes, the scourge of the breakfast table, and the cruellest of ends for some of our finest produce [...] 'I find your views shocking and upsetting,' says Seb Emina, author of the Breakfast Bible. 'Fry-ups are a way of showing off good ingredients. You take bacon, egg, black pudding, mushrooms etc, cook them to your liking, and arrange them on a plate. That's it.' But that's not a dish. It's a few ingredients, cooked identically, then forced to compete for your attention. Perhaps 'British breakfast mezze' might make a better epithet. 'It's interactive, customisable,' argues Emina..." [Read more]

Katy Salter, Guardian Word of Mouth blog: "So if cleaning the kitchen afterwards is the first rule of successful breakfast in bed, what are the others? 'Arrange everything properly,' says Seb Emina, author of The Breakfast Bible. 'Pillows are important – they need a decent set to support both back and head when they are sitting upright. You don't want to be at less than a 90-degree angle when you're eating. Don't forget the small touches either – flowers, music and a handmade card or drawing.'" [Read more]

Cool Culinaria: "Author Seb Emina, who writes a blog about our first meal of the day under his alter ego Malcolm Eggs, has written a great history of the breakfast in his book "The Breakfast Bible". Along with ways to time your boiled egg to perfection – by listening to particular songs – it’s a fount of information about other people’s breakfast habits." [Read more]

India Knight, on Twitter: "A small masterpiece." [Link]

Stylist Magazine: "Every witty, wise and wonderful thing you can do with words about the first meal of the day is found in The Breakfast Bible."

Maddy Hubbard, The Mancunion: "Clearly, this is a man that respects breakfasts and treats it with due reverence and sincerity. One would be a fool to visit London without referring to the London Review of Breakfasts, and now his new book will enable lovers of breakfast to create the perfect breakfast at home as well." [Read more] 

Clara Silva, i Newspaper (Portugal): "'Eggs and Sausage', de Tom Waits, 'Breakfast In America', dos Supertramp, 'Nice Girls Don’t Stay for Breakfast', de Julie London, ou 'St Alphonso’s Pancake Breakfast', de Frank Zappa. Se está farto de pequenos-almoços silenciosos, inspire-se nas músicas da playlist de Malcolm Eggs, o alter-ego de Seb Emina, o autor do livro 'The Breakfast Bible', o título essencial daquela que dizem ser a refeição mais importante do dia." [Read more]

Prufrock Café, Clerkenwell

Prufrock Café
23-25 Leather Lane
Clerkenwell
EC1N 7TE
207 242 0467
www.prufrockcoffee.com

by Bee Loobury

***caveat***
This writing considers only a single aspect of this lovely café, which deserves far more comprehensive appraisal.

One day a week I rise relatively early and head to Clerkenwell. As I am not a morning person it’s pretty much all I can do to make it in to work on time. So it’s no surprise that I don’t usually have time for a breakfast outing. That said last Wednesday there was a confluence of perfectly timed tube, train, and bus routes that left me with an extra 20 minutes before work. This gift from the heavens (or TFL, take your pick) allowed me to do something I’d been dreaming of.

For the past few months I‘ve spent my workday lunches at Prufrock Café, and consistently my eyes have been drawn to one particular item on the menu board – cinnamon toast. Now before I continue and extoll the virtues of this delectable treat I am going to write something that some may consider sacrilegious, especially when writing about Prufrock: I don’t drink coffee.

I know, this place is a coffee mecca, coffee is their raison d’etre, they have a coffee training center fer chrissake. And I can appreciate the sensuous aroma, the art of the barista, the paraphernalia, the stunning milky decoration, even the political aspect of the bean; it’s just not my thing. So I won’t be writing about the coffee at this coffee house as I am obviously not qualified. I prefer tea.

And this is where I find myself with just enough time for tea and toast. And the ultimate tea and toast at that. This cinnamon toast is not just your everyday stick-some-bread-in-the-toaster, slather-on-some-butter-and-sprinkle-with-a-bit-of-sugar-and-cinnamon. Oh no, this is GRIDDLED CINNAMON TOAST. Hot and melting with dark spice and sweetness. This must have been what in earlier centuries people experienced when cinnamon first arrived to the West. Almost tart aromatic spice caramelized and generously lathered on a freshly sliced loaf exceeded my weeks of expectation. This was my reward for having eaten properly balanced meals all those lunchtimes. Not that I had suffered in any way!

Prufrock does some of the best soups and stews around and always has yummy cheese or avocado on toast, too. But, knowing I’d be returning to the second half of my workday, I felt obliged to be sensible; protein would be required to endure the remaining hours and not start to flag and fade away come 4 o’clock. So the decadent pleasure of their sideboard, groaning with cakes and pies, tarts and brownies, had to wait. I think this might have made the griddled cinnamon toast taste even better – if that’s even possible.