I love Little Ox. It’s out of the way enough to be interesting, but is always a hive of activity as well. It’s frequented by the kind of “celebrities” that live in the area: professional sportsmen mostly, but also the occasional actor who decided to escape the clutches of Brunswick Street and move southward. Once I was there and Kat Stewart was at the next table so I laughed loudly and looked interesting and she asked if she could be my friend but I said no.
I’m obviously not as refined as I like to think, because I kind of went “Er, what’s the lemon for?” and my mother looked at me like I had disappointed her in every way possible. But it looked good on the plate, yes.
Little Ox butters its toast! They even make note of it on the menu, so Brighton’s Q7 drivers (they’re the new Cayenne drivers, who were the new X5 drivers) can ask for it without lest their husbands leave them, I guess. Anyway, it was a quite nice ciabatta, though it was overcooked and one of the pieces was minute.
They take a slightly different approach to rosti than most – it’s a solid lump of potato, almost like a croquette. To be honest it did lack flavour, but the texture and willingness to absorb egg yolk made up for it.
Very slightly on the under-ripe side, but most delicious.
I have a feeling some of this grilled ham may have been bacon, but THANK THE LORD JESUS because it was delicious. The seasoning was just right and it was actually grilled, so it pulled away like pork belly and I wept.
Exceptional eggs. They were huge! I broke them open directly on the plate and smeared everything else in their delectable yellow goo. More appetising than it might sound.
I have no idea, my daddy paid for it. But it’s Brighton, so I’m going to guess $Lots.
Judging your breakfast
My nephew had a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. He complained that it didn’t come with a spoon – obviously – and then proceeded to eat exactly none of it. I don’t know what happens in someone’s life that makes them not want to eat scrambly eggs, but this kid got it all wrong.