Alan's psychedelic breakfast...

Rise And Shine
("Oh..uh..me flakes... scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages, tomatoes, toast, coffee, marmalade. I like marmalade... porridge..any cereal, I like all cereals...oh god...")
Sunny Side Up
("Breakfast in Los Angeles, macrobiotic stuff...")
Morning Glory

Driving to the gig. All that electrical stuff I cant be bothered with that its so fiddly. Oh god.....

I've been lax. Sorry, but I just haven't had either the energy, motivation or inspiration to write anything recently. Then quite casually and I'm certain unintentionally Liv inspired me on the drive home from radiation today. Once again, we are going to talk about food. Not specific food, but the location it comes from. Do you know when you have that meal, or food item from one specific place that is just perfect? That no matter where else you have the same thing from it just isn't the same? Whether its the seasoning of the grill, the chef that doesn't wash his hands, or the lingering flavour of bleach on the cutting board - there is that intangible quality, that just can't be found anywhere else.

This is a story about breakfast.

Breakfast, how often did I hear it was the most important meal of the day? I love breakfast, but I am so very particular about it.  When you are a kid, or at least when I was a kid. It was all about sugary goodness, Count Chocula, Frankenberry, Boo-berry, Sugar Smacks, Captain Crunch etc. These were all rare treats, I think I would get the small box whenever I finished off a big box of Corn Flakes, Rice Krispies or Shreddies. Breakfast Monday to Friday was cereal. The weekends would be a family gathering of bacon and eggs - mom's were scrambled, dad's over easy - cooked in bacon drippings.

Breakfast was the first thing I learnt how to cook - as a boy scout merit badge. That was thirty years ago - do you think I'd learnt to wear a shirt to protect from bacon splatter in that time?

Sadly, no.

Breakfast waned during the teenage years, skipped during the week, and only consumed on the weekends when the smell of bacon wafted upstairs to waken me from my lazy teenage slumber.

That all changed at university though. I became a regular on Friday nights at a place called Father and Sons, a lot of beer lead to pounding hangovers - which meant I needed the best hangover cure the following morning - grease.

Bacon, eggs, sausage, home fries, tomato, mushrooms, eggs - runny, toast, coffee, o.j. - all of that was $9.95 and of course the all important Tabasco sauce. It was good, but not quite right. It did set a standard by which all others were judged, that is until one morning when I went to the Royal Oak for my grease special.

They had quite the menu - omelette's, kippers and toast, welsh rarebit, eggs florentine, and a host of other items. But, what I wanted, what I needed, was the big breakfast - the grill. And, oh did they have it. Eggs, toast - thick cut Texas style, a banger - not some piddly little sausage link, home fries, tomato, mushrooms, bacon and steak - a real steak an 8oz sirloin and of course coffee. The o.j. was extra, but who cares, they'd serve me Guinness before 10am.

I'd found my meal.

It probably contained my caloric content for the week let alone day, but I was a busy, hard drinking student. The Tabasco, that most significant condiment was right there on the table as well.

Sadly, I moved off of campus and was left looking for a new place for breakfast. Many a day went by where I wandered in a dreary haze, unable to face up to the grey dawn, without my magical weekend breakfast.

As soon as I found a place it seemed to close, or was inconsistent in the quality of what I got.

Then one day,when all hope was lost, my problems were answered.

A Royal Oak opened in my neighbourhood!

Even better I got a job working there, on weekends.

I got to eat for free!

More importantly, it was just as tasty as it had always been.

This went on for a few years, until I started working elsewhere. As much as I wanted to storm out and quit in a dramatic fashion, I just couldn't. I knew my addiction to that big breakfast would be too powerful.  I couldn't burn the bridges at the Oak -where would I go for breakfast?

I had my dalliances. Flirtations with other places for breakfast. Zak's diner for example - there breakfast came with baked beans as well, but no alcohol. Well, that just wasn't going to do.

The Glebe Cafe - well, that was lousy service and inconsistent, too small and too expensive.

The Manx - Ok. The Manx breakfast was awesome, that summer savoury sausage was one of the best things I've ever had. The atmosphere was fantastic, the staff was great and friendly, they served beer - and good beer as well. And the price was spot on as well.

Only trouble was, it was just that little bit too far too go. I mean, she was a great girlfriend to have and enjoy when the weather was fine. But, when those cold winds blew or that rain was pulsing down, she just wasn't good enough to pull me away from my true breakfast love.

So, it was back to the Oak Glebe 

What more could I ask for?

Times changed, and a true love called me away. I was beckoned overseas - and I've been searching high and low for a good breakfast ever since.

Everything fails.

The bacon just doesn't taste right.

The steaks are crap coming in at 100gm sliced off a piece of frozen rib fillet

The sausages are these horrid mass produced beef instead of pork sausage links

Even the eggs don't taste the same.

Most importantly, almost no Aussie restaurant has Tabasco. It's either black sauce - its called Worcestershire sauce people! Or the ubiquitous tomato sauce, its not even ketchup.

Even working in the industry I wasn't able to replicate that special meal from the Oak. No matter what I tried, it just didn't cut it.

So, no matter where I go, I try the big breakfast grill - always hoping to find the replacement for that long lost love. Whenever the smell of bacon wafts through the air, my nose quivers, my heart goes pitter patter -  but that might just be the cholesterol blockage, and I run inside hoping, hoping to satisfy that long ago memory.