Breakfast InnsBrooklyn stylee

One of the things I love most about travelling is experiencing different cultures' interpretations of breakfast. Sadly, thanks to Ronald McDonald and his wanton wench  sidekick The Green Mermaid (Purveyor of Bland Coffee), things are changing fast, especially in Europe.

That being said, I reckon that Austrians will always remain fiercely true to their breakfast roots of damn fine bread, meat and cheese with the occasional boiled egg. Oh and phenomenal coffee. And a cigarette.

As Innsbruck was my second home for nearly three years I thought I had the breakfast options dialled and filed under T for "Tasty but unimaginative".

Until this last trip.

We were there for a family reunion and in the course of a weekend of chaos, I mentioned my Blog to a friend of a friend and his eyes lit up. Being fairly new to Innsbruck himself, he had set about exploring and had come across a great place curiously called Breakfast Club.

I use the word curiously for a reason. Tyrolean restaurants generally don't have English names and they most definitely don't centre their menu  around breakfast.

Skiing be damned, the Breakfast Club I had to see. And so on the Saturday we attempted a visit. And failed. Located in the heart of Innsbruck's shopping district, the Breakfast Club Innsbruck style was packed, racked and stacked with a queue.

Nothing makes me more determined than an interesting Breakfast place that I can't get into. I won't queue for a nightclub, but for some inexplicable reason I will queue for foreign French Toast. Sadly, I was the only one willing to queue for breakfast and after a valiant struggle I lost the Sunday ski verses breakfast debate as well.

Happily my wonderful friend Danny agreed to meet me there on Monday morning for breakfast. Hah! (I said to myself) Monday, it will be a ghost town, we'll have the place to ourselves.

Wrong. It was packed again, but we managed to camp long enough to scare two people off their table (apparently wild eyed foreign blondes are a bit off putting when you are trying to enjoy breakfast). YES!

While waiting and intimidating the other customers with a face off, we'd ordered coffees at the bar. Quick Tip: if you ever find yourself in Austria and like me can't handle über strong coffee, then order a Latte Macchiato. As well as an English name, Breakfast Club have English and German menus which is handy and there are pages and pages (yay!) of breakfast options. All brunch dishes are served 5am to 5pm - so it seems you could Ski AND go there on a weekend (double yay!).

A small sample from the menu...
Das Frühstück (Translation  - THE Breakfast): all the usual Austrian breakfast meaty cheesy bready bits plus a boiled egg and that exotic Austrian delicacy - Nutella)
Erst Süss Dan Salzig (Translation: First Sweet then Salty): My kind of mash up - as above plus waffle with saucy goodies
Hell's Omelette (no translation required - spicy!)
Heiße Orange (Hot Orange) - I had it - yum for winter - a hot honey infused orange juice

I played patriotic and had the Innsbrucker Omelette which was packed full of delicious things. We also had French Toasts (sic) - it seemed a shame not to as we had queued to sample the Austrian version. There are lots of fun combinations and variations most of which come with Holunder Saft nach Oma's Rezept (Elderberry Juice as made by Grandma).

Did I mention cup cakes? Yes they have those too. And cocktails. And if you feel like lunch not brunch they have daily lunch dishes as well.

And all this located in a beautiful valley town below the glorious Tyrolean Alps...

To paraphrase Mr R. MacDonald himself:

Ich liebe es

Breakfast Club
Maria-Theresien-Straße 49
Innsbruck
Austria
How To Get There
Website and Menu

The Undisputed Duke's of Hackney...

There is a standing joke that when Antipodeans roll into Heathrow they don't have enough money to make it past Putney.

 

I have to confess that for my first six years of living in London, I did think that you need a Schengen Visa to travel to Shoreditch. It was only having spent six months living in Stratford last year, that I finally learned what cool Londoners have known all along. East beats West. Hands down.

 

If you want the true grit and quirk of London, head to Old Street, jump off the tube and follow your nose. Or be a lazyass like me and drive (I am happy to report that unlike the esteemed borough of Westminster, Hackney has a more relaxed attitude to parking permits.)

 

Duke's Brew and Que has been on my hit list for ages having  been spotted by Missy (eponymous breakfast partner of this blog)  and I last year. It is famous for old fashioned American Bar-B-Que, but, during a Cheesecake raid we staged there last year, we noticed a brunch menu and promised ourselves that we would go back.

 

It's been too long since we had a brunch ramble and we needed something special to drag us out of our desperate will-this-damn-winter-never-end blues. I vaguely remembered something involving stuffed French Toast on Duke's menu and like Pavlov's dog to the bell, it was enough to get me to shift my pasty self Eastwards.

 

Duke's is everything you would expect from an East London boozer slash eatery. Cool cat hipster staff. Brickery Brackery in every corner. Noise. Smells. Miniature Hackneyites colouring in and bathing themselves in the quirky tin can basins downstairs.

 

But.

 

Somewhere in that smoky, mental kitchen, hides a real gen-oo-ine 'Merican, cranking out US of A sized feasts. Now if you have read this Blog at all, you will know how much I respect American breakfast and brunch sensibility. Elegant Cappuccinos and pastries are fine and well, but when you have a breakfast sized hole to fill, you need foods from the groups Butter, Syrup, Bacon and Egg. And supersized.

 

I have eaten many, many decadent breakfasts in the past few years, but today I discovered the Mecca of Moreishness.

 

Before I continue, it's worth explaining that I have a slightly strange breakfast palate. I blame my Mum. When you grow up with lunchbox regulars including bacon plus peanut butter or bacon and banana sarnies, you learn that bacon is remarkably versatile. Bacon and eggs? Far too predictable for our family I'm afraid.

 

So imagine my delight when I located the stuffed french toastie thing I remembered seeing last year.

 

Enter Mister Frenchie's Ravioli. It's oozy. And salty. And sweet. It's far too good not to attempt to eat the whole thing, but two monster sized French Toast sandwiches packed full of bacon and cream cheese defeated me.

 

Missy had the Buttermilk Pancakes. Also gigantic. Also fantastic.

 

And they humour coffee heathens and make it milky (if you ask nicely).

 

Plain and simple. Duke's Brew and Que?

 

Hell yeah.

 

 

Duke's Brew and Que

33 Downham Road
De Beauvoir Town
Hackney
London N1 5AA

How to Get There

Website and Menu