Brunch Sausage
A sausage.
A sausage.
There are times for caviar and there are times for, well, ham and eggs. Accordingly, there are places that serve caviar and there are places that serve ham and eggs.
Now, Café Mocca, a most charming little café situated inside a trainstation in Vienna’s 18th district definitely doesn’t serve caviar. Why? Mainly because caviar is something for pretentious morons with more money than sense, and Café Mocca simply doesn’t cater to that kind of audience.
What they do serve, apart from various breakfasts and a selection of soups, salads and sandwiches, are ham and eggs. And they do it in style.
The egg’s always perfectly cooked, so the first cut will release delicious yolk, which can then be scooped up with pieces of a roll that’s crisp on the outside and most fluffy on the inside. The ham? Well, it’s warm, slightly grilled ham. Basically, if the ham isn’t of questionable quality to begin with, there’s not a whole lot you can do wrong there. And they don’t.
The whole thing is topped off with generously sprinkled chive.
It is, to be frank, a perfect serving of ham and eggs. So go there, have some of it, but don’t do it on Sunday noons, because that’s when I’m going and I WILL GET MOST ANNOYED WHEN YOU’RE BLOCKING MY TABLE. Just saying.
In which I write about a turkey. A dead one. For consumption.
It’s Christmas Eve today, and already food is aplenty. I will be consuming large amounts of things, including but not limited to biscuits, meat, cheese and ham during the next few days and you, dear reader, will benefit almost as much as I will. Because, as you know, I will not hesitate to put it all up here for you to enjoy.
What you see here, by the way, is a Swedish-French Christmas lunch, with cheese, ham, grapes and other things so awesome my camera was unable to capture them.
Anyway, have a good Christmas, whether you actually are into that kind of stuff or not.
In which I will not only show off my skills when it comes to preparing pasta dishes, but also my opinion on the word “farfalle”.
In which I tell a heart-warming story about love and happiness. And a dead bird.
Even though I'm still terrified of the stringy poached eggs I've last produced, I will be adventurous tonight and try a poached eggs salad I found a recipe for on the Intarwebs.
Loyal reader and man about town Daniel pointed me to a fantastic collection of poached egg success and failure stories which you absolutely need to check out! HERE.(click the link, that's why I wrote it all in caps).
Do come back tomorrow to find out whether I've been beaten into a bloody pulp by the beast named "poached egg" yet again or whether I'll have kicked it's metaphorical ass at last.
