Brunch with baby

5.30.

Alarm goes of.

Nudge the husband: ‘baby, it’s half five, you gotta shower, I’ll prepare the breakfast. Hot chocolate or cereals today?’

 

6.45.

Husband leaves the house.

 

7.00.

Baby and mum go back to bed.

 

Which takes us back to brunch. You can’t just go happily around calling it a breakfast if you’re having it at 11 on a Monday, can you? Besides brunch sounds much more Sex in the City/Gossip Girl than breakfast does.

Once upon a time when I fit into size 8 trousers (on a good day, more usually it was a 10) and I took full advantage of that teaching degree I have, I used to be head waitress at a very expensive Sunday brunch restaurant in Central London, so I know what fancy brunch is all about.

We greeted customers (sorry, guests) with complementary bellinis, all food was organic and cooked on the spot for the customers, we had crêpe, waffle and egg stations and a selection of teas and coffee.

 

Inspired by my time there, brunch at home today included:

• Hot chocolate (half boiling water, half cold milk, heating up milk takes too long)

• Buttered bread with jam (toasting takes too long)

• Microwaved scrambled eggs with cheese (preparing them the usual way takes too long)

After that I was more than willing to have a complementary bellini myself (or some of that cheap wine my husband got as a present), but then I realised that someone else wanted brunch as well.

Baby brunch