Breakfast in Newtown

Something I really like about Sydney is the breakfast culture. As so many other things, we don't have this in my old country. In Newtown, where I live, every Saturday morning is great! It's usually sunny, and heaps of people go out to eat breakfast. There is also a small market in front of the Town Hall where people come to mostly sell the stuff they don't need any more, although you can sometimes see belly dancers, magicians, and of course, Goths.

Pass the market, you enter the main part of King Street where most of the restaurants are. I wanted to have a breakfast, and one of my usual places, Corelli's was full, so I went on, and found a seat in this place I haven't been before. I have to say, staff was really professional, great service, great coffee, and while I was sipping it, I was waiting for my great breakfast. One of fairly standard orders in Newtown is Big Brekkie, a plate of poached eggs, grilled mushrooms, hash-browns, baked beans, sausages, and omnipresent bacon and salad or variations thereof.

mmmm, breakfast!

It finally arrived, and it was big, all right! Everything looked perfect, and tasty too. The eggs perfectly poached, several pieces of perfectly toasted toast, beans baked to perfection, grilled mushrooms with oregano, bacon and sausages crispy as it should be, and plenty of butter on the side. I was chewing happily when I encountered an unfortunate resident of the baked beans. A small cockroach was obviously drowned [if not cooked] in the beans.

What? I don't remember ordering extra proteins!

So, there were two things I could do. I could stop eating, which wouldn't make much of a difference since I was already half the way through my plate, or, I could pretend nothing happened and continue with my breakfast.

I carefully placed the cockroach carcass on the side of the plate, and proceeded eating other animals' carcasses. I have to admit the breakfast did not taste as good as it originally did, but I was really hungry and it was good enough, so I finished with the meat, and left the tainted beans on the plate.

A waiter came and asked if I was happy with my meal. I told him yes, but I would be happier without this extra serving. I also asked him to warn the cook to be more careful for the sake of other, less sensitive patrons. He looked honestly shocked. I don't know if it was because of the roach in their food, or because I ate almost the whole thing despite of it, and was still kind to them.

A minute later, he returned embarrassed and apologising as if he farted during a dramatic pause of the theatre play, and said that the breakfast is on the house. Well, I said, thank you, fair enough. He also gave me another coffee for free and then we parted ways.

This little episode will certainly not diminish my passion for Saturday breakfasts, but will definitely make me think about where do I eat them.