Unfortunately, we will have to close the blog now. Yes, I know, there are hundreds of places to eat breakfast that we haven’t been to yet. (Melbourne is bloody huge, incidentally.) But the search is over. I am home. I have found my favourite place to eat breakfast. And I live here now.
jk, we’re not really closing the blog. But I really have had a religious breakfast experience. Spilt Milk is a fairly new addition to the ever-growing Carnegie landscape, which now boasts no less than 6 places to get a really good breakky, and I’m just going to come out and say that it’s the best one. Yes, even better than Huff Bagelry. I know, who am I?
I’m not really sure where to start or how to construct a real sentence. The fit out is darling, with lots of wood and jars and the kinds of things you don’t often get in the south-east. It’s trendy, but people like me don’t feel like they should go back to McDonald’s. It’s cosy, but you’re not sitting in anyone else’s lap. It’s busy, but you don’t have to yell to each other (also I came alone, so I might have frightened people).
Everything on the menu, in the cabinets and in fridges has an animal name. Instead of being something your lame grandmother would do, it’s endearing and adorable. For example, you can have a ‘Piglet’, which is an egg and bacon muffin. Or you can have a ‘Baboon’, which is banana bread. Or a ‘Lizard’, which is a macadamia and white chocolate cookie (lizards are pretty big fans of cookies).
The girl next to me had a ‘Chameleon’, which was apparently formed spontaneously in the kitchen and was just a plate full of salty, eggy goodness. It’s not on the menu, but she told me that if you ask nicely, they’ll invent something just for you.
You can see why I had to move in.
I looked at the menu for three years before deciding. Everything on it seems carefully chosen and deliberately crafted – there’s no Eggs Benedict here. I went with the ‘Zebra’, which is olive sourdough with onion jam, baked bacon, avocado and ricotta. But I could equally have chosen the ‘Donkey’: poached eggs, baked bacon, fresh spinach and spiced capsicum aioli on sourdough. Or the ‘Sheep’: baked eggs in a pan with sundried tomatoes, fresh spinach, fetta and chilli jam.
Jansen, who is the nicest man to have a cafe in recorded history, introduced himself and the barista and asked for my name, which in Melbourne is quite a big deal. Most of the time people just grunt in my general direction and occasionally display outward, blatant disdain. When My New Friend Jansen delivered my food, he immediately declared that my bacon was insufficient and shortly thereafter returned with more bacon.
At Spilt Milk, the bacon comes with a side of bacon.
I am embarrassed to tell you that I’m not usually a fan of bacon. In my mind the rind is kind (whoa poems!) of slimy and I’m not a great one for heaps of salt. But this was a short cut bacon and it tasted honeyed. I loved the fact that it had been baked and not fried – it ended up somewhere between a fry up and a pork belly.
I ate it greedily and licked my fingers at the end.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is how you do a breakfast nook in the south-east!