Post-party politics #1

28th April.

This weekend I did not get the chance to go out for a cooked breakfast. This was due to events celebrating the births of Stuart Alley and Liz Hertogs taking pride of place across Saturday and Sunday. The centrepiece of the weekend was a debauched house party on the Saturday night, at which one could witness the likes of Jack the Ripper, Helen of Troy, King Arthur, Odin, a mermaid, and a phoenix all swapping clothes. Hedonism of mythological proportions, leading to a morning where most of the revellers felt like Prometheus having just been visited by an eagle.

We have a bit of a tradition that following a house party we set about having a large communally cooked breakfast. Sure, outsourcing makes things easy, but keeping it in house guarantees greater creative control and increases the chance of your end product resembling your desire. Or something like that. In any case, that's the way things are and the way that things should hopefully remain for the foreseeable future.

In the absence of a proper review, I thought I would put up some photos to document what was a tasty, tasty breakfast. Lazy, yes, but if there is any time where laziness can be excused it is the time after a night of swapping the uniform of late capitalism for the street attire of the Victorian harlot.

 

In this first one you can see a few tasty components laid out for those feasting to help themselves. Hash browns, tomatoes, a big bowl o' cheese, baked beans, and toast are the foods on parade here, backed up by tea, coffee and some fruit juices at the far end. Marvellous.

In this second one we see where some of the magic was happening. On the hobs we have a pan of delicious fried mushrooms and a pan of wonderfully orchestrated scrambled eggs. Om nom nom.

Finally, here is my plate, just before I begin breaking my fast. I have taken all of the available components and added a cheeky bit of salsa on the side. I discovered the merits of salsa with breakfast whilst in the US for a friend's wedding, and this proved to be a prime opportunity to revisit those transatlantic practices. It's a shame that the US style breakfasts I've had so far have ignored it.

I may have overdone the cheese...well, that is if it is indeed possible to overdo the cheese...the jury remains out on that one. I particularly enjoyed the tea-coffee-orange juice chaser combo. Definitely one for repeating.

I won't bother rating this breakfast, as I have too much political bias. The post-party breakfast is one of the most beautiful life experiences one can have in my book (on one lonely late-night train journey back from Cardiff I once composed a celebratory poem/rap about the subject which can be perused here; I'm quite pleased to note another allusion to Prometheus) and should you be fortunate to find yourself at one of our parties hopefully you will get to share this feeling.