It may come as a surprise to you to learn that I’m rarely stuck for words. But this morning at Kicko, I couldn’t make them go. I couldn’t find any words. To be frank, I spent most of the meal blinking at my children, wondering why they couldn’t be more like the breakfast I was eating.
We happened upon Kicko by accident. My understanding is that it has previously just been one shop front and not one that was necessarily popular with the usual Bayside crowd (parents, cyclists and cycling parents). It’s been extended and refurbished, so as we went tearing past (at the speed limit), I noticed it out of the corner of my eye, chucked a u-bolt and ran (didn’t) toward the people who could give me protein shaped like eggs.
I’m sorry to say that we were annoying patrons. Firstly, the only table left outside was in the sun. I was happy to grab it if it meant I got to eat faster, but I am also approximately the colour of invisibility and I knew I would burn in mere seconds. Secondly, my children are quite noisy and bore easily (the world is just not interesting enough to stimulate their huge brains). And thirdly, the dogs came along, so eating outside was our only option (whilst they are exceptionally well behaved dogs – really! – the older one gets such acute separation anxiety that she might have committed hara-kiri if we’d eaten without her).
But to the soundtrack of my resounding applause, the waitresses took this all in their stride. When a table in the shade came up, they moved us there. They even shifted our myriad things for us. They patted the dogs. They gave the children colouring in books. They reminded Gaz that he is always right.
I was in love.
Of course, I am fickle and this love might have been short-lived if the food had been ordinary.
The breakfast menu at Kicko is extensive and caters for all kinds of tastes. My vegetarian breakfast kick continued with their Green Breakfast, which is made up of a bunch of green things. I know. They are magic weavers. “Green things” includes spinach and rocket (fancy!), avocado and pesto. There’s also bread and poached eggs, neither of which are green, but both of which are delicious.
I can’t … even now … how is this food so incredible? I am not even lying when I say I cried into my plate because of the way this tasted. I literally wept. My palate is not sophisticated enough for me to really understand what it was about it that tasted so good, but maybe it was the combination of all the fucking best things in the history of civilisation.
I am salivating. Right now. All over my desk.
I paced myself so as to not eat it in a hurry. I savoured it. I smelled it. I licked it. I gave it a name. I introduced it to my family. I ate every last molecule of this food and then I very nearly ordered another serving.
So I am still in love. Kicko, if Google is telling me the truth, your name means ‘buddy’, and that is what you and I will be, forever.