I love brunch – it’s a brilliant invention. Somehow it makes eating the most unhealthy meals seen genuinely good for you. Something to do with ‘breakfast is the most important meal of the day’: no matter what you have it’s worthwhile…
But better than brunch is a good brunch. Good brunch can be great, and given that the brunch I had at No 30 Café was just good, I guess it was only mediocre.
I had eggs benedict (back to any unhealthy meal is excused), and excellent Norfolk ham sat atop perfectly fine muffins. The eggs were perfect poached hemispheres, and here the problems began. Poached eggs shouldn’t be perfect, and I’m not really a believer in egg poachers (the gadget, not the profession if there is one). Poached eggs should be wispy, uneven things. They’re pretty difficult to get right, but that may be why when you do they’re surely the best eggs on earth. Light, not heavy. Fresh and runny, not stodgy and hard.
To top this off, the hollandaise, served on the side, meant the experience was one of dipping muffin, egg and ham into pure, yellow, fatty goo. Okay, I know that’s what hollandaise is, but when it’s drizzled on top it’s slightly better disguised.
Lovely loose leaf tea served in a large pot somewhat redeemed these choices, and Tom’s croque madame was genuinely delicious, so I’ll certainly give the place another try. But I’ll be on the lookout for even better places in the meantime.