Recovering with Rosie at Tutti Frutti

23rd June.

Urrrrrrrrrrrgrhrghrghhhgh. I've had many a deep existential crisis (to be referred to from this point on as either a DEC or hangover) in my time, but this one was big. This week's highest new entry. One of those heady mixtures of drinking something from each of the key alcohol groups (wine, beer, peculiar lemon liqueur) and a ridiculous lack of sleep, leaving me feeling unclean and nauseous as I rode the bus up to Seven Dials to meet up with Rosie Williams for breakfast. I had partied to a level that Andrew WK would have nodded approval at, and I was in dire need of something. A sharp dose of cooked breakfast to put me out of my misery.

It seemed to me that Rosie also needed the restorative power of the cooked breakfast, having been submerged for the weekend in an ox-bow lake of teacher assessment red-tape type drudgery, surrounded by a moat of wedding preparation. Not quite a DEC, but certainly sharing some of its headache inducing properties.

As we sat in Tutti Frutti, watching through the large windows a series of exciting wee dogs snuffling past, she explained how she'd been having some troublesome dreams about her impending wedding to Mike. The first one featured doubt, with her remarking that she "couldn't marry a man with elbows like that!" The second featured a minor catastrophe, with her mum forgetting to bring a vintage suitcase that cards would be put in. Consequently the wedding was ruined and she ended up swimming through mud. The most recent nocturnal episode was the toughest; she trod in mud, had a row with her mum in a castle/department store, and then ran off with our friend Steve into some tunnels. I dread to think what nightmares she will be plagued with in the final few days running up to the wedding. Perhaps she'll be locked in a castle/department store which is slowly filling up with mud, and her mum will be outside refusing to unlock the door, and then Steve will parachute in and have to fight his way through a horde of zombie waspiders (horrible cross between wasp and spider) but then at the last minute Jim Davidson will burst in, with Mike trapped in a rucksack, and then proceed to start shouting in a really high-pitched voice at everyone. Maybe.

The escaping thing from the most recent dream may be influenced by a discovery Rosie made. One of her colleagues had informed her of an incredible adventure activity zone (for want of a better term) in London called HintHunt, where you and your friends are placed in a room and have one hour to escape, solving various clues and challenges along the way in order to do so. Although there's not much info on their website, it sounds like an ace combination between room escape games and the sadly defunct Crystal Maze activity centres that used to exist back in t' day. Visiting this place is definitely going to be on the agenda, as it looks guaranteed to provide a good time.

Rosie likes to have a good time, but when it comes down to getting the work done she seems to thrive on intense, wine-fuelled bursts of creativity. And boy does she get it done; from all reports her results both at uni and work have been pretty impressive. This illustrates the kind of person that Rosie is; I would say she is hard-working and playful. Sure, the playful side may be in charge for quite a lot of the time, but she always seems to get the job done. Eventually.

I'm confident that with her behind the reins, this wedding is going to be a pretty ace occasion, from the build-up to what occurs the following day. The post-wedding breakfast is one of the most important aspects of the marriage. Rosie and Mike will be orchestrating a group of 36 (yes, thirty-six!) people to have breakfast in a pub in Ditchling the day after tying the knot. That's going to take some doing. I shall, obviously, be providing a full report.

And so, the breakfast:

Vegetarian Breakfast

2 eggs, 2 hash browns, mushrooms, beans, tomatoes, 2 toast 

Vegetarian Breakfast - £5.95

Oh baby. This was what I needed. It looked just like they'd upended a tin of beans onto my plate. Take that, DEC. It was a pretty classic veggie breakfast set-up; all the key players were there, no pretension or things trying to be what they're not. This was a purist's breakfast, and with good quantities.

Quantity is nothing without some quality however. Fortunately the baked beans had enough going for them to make the portion not seem excessive. They were soft and syrupy, meaning that I could quite comfortably eat a spoonful of them without the need for combining them with any other components, their mellow fruitiness granting them independence of the other items.

One thing that this purist breakfast did well was ensure that each component had a very distinct flavour and texture. It can sometimes be an issue when you have multiple items performing similar roles, turning areas of the breakfast plate into uninspiring homogenous masses. This is not what you want when you are feeling like an uninspiring homogenous mass yourself, thanks to a throbbing DEC. Each item here was very much doing its own thing and I was grateful for this.

Ms. Williams, for the next month anyway

The flavours were distinct yet not overwhelming. The hash browns were light and with the essence of potato at the fore of their taste. The outer skin was thin, reminding me of crisps. The mushrooms were thoroughly cooked and simply buttery in taste. The tomatoes were intriguing; compact with the outer structure rigidly intact, but with the innards loose and flowing. They lacked the rich sweetness of the beans, and carried more earthy, fleshy notes.

The only item that disappointed was the egg. I enjoyed the whites, strong and thick, close to the Platonic form of the albumen, but the yolks.... Ah man. They were pale, anaemic, cloud-like. They were quite like me I suppose; from a distance I may have looked alright, having had a shower, put on clean clothes etc, but on the inside I was feeling very vague and fluffy. Hungover eggs. Eggs in deep existential crisis.

This disappointment was made up for by the delightful way in which the toast was delivered. Both mine and Rosie's toast portions were brought to us on the same dish, charmingly side by side. This move made the whole experience infinitely more homely, making us feel less like customers and more like friends of the establishment. The toast was also a taste highlight, being good quality seeded wholemeal bread and liberally buttered (it is worth noting that I was given a choice with regards to the bread, along with the tomatoes).

On the whole, Tutti Frutti was a charming wee place.  The staff who served us seemed to care about being friendly and making sure we were comfy. In terms of the food, it was all, bar the eggs, served rather well (Rosie informed me that the bacon was particularly good also). The whole experience felt gentle and comforting, precisely what one needs following the onset of a DEC. Sure, it wasn't especially game-changing, but it's good to know that there's definitely somewhere on Seven Dials that you can go to for a pleasant breakfast that will ease you through the beginning stages of fear and trembling, or the sickness unto death. It is thanks to Tutti Frutti that I survived that morning, and made it through to the pub quiz in the evening.

Function: made me feel like the world wasn't going to end just yet 4/5
Adherence to canon: Yes
Taste: not stunning, but rather pleasant 3/5
Value: satisfactory 3/5
Presentation: the communal toast plate was a superb innovation 4/5
Venue: felt well looked after  4/5

Overall: softly uplifting, a safe bet 3.5/5