Sometimes in life, we have experiences that make us want to go and find the things that previously brought us joy and kick them in the shins for being so horrible by comparison. Eating breakfast at 8 Days Cafe is one of those things. Even now, hours later, I am curled up on the couch, crying at the inadequacy of all other areas of my life.
If I’m honest, I wanted to go to Coin Laundry. But we’re still in that first part of January when lots of things are closed, but enough things are open that you head out anyway and hope for the best. And Coin Laundry was closed. And then the road was closed, and part of High Street was closed, and I had to do a big loop and then I ran over an old lady and then finally I stopped outside of 8 Days.
Side note: it’s funny how when you go to suburbs where people drive badly (Armadale, Toorak, Brighton), some part of you becomes one of them. In the interests of full disclosure, I drive a motherly SUV, and this morning I mounted the curb more times than a tomcat before throwing my hands in the air and leaving it half parked in the street. What is that about?
The cafe itself is gorgeous, breezy and open. I took a seat in a private little corner so I could write things about the staff without them spotting me.
I audibly gasped when I saw this food.
Because I had Eggs Benedict (again), I had just your standard English muffin. Fortunately, this time they weren’t stale or burnt.
Bubble and squeak croquette (house made)
My first thought when I read through the menu was “Hmph, I really felt like a hash brown this morning,” but I thought it reasonable to substitute with the croquette. They’re both made of potato, yes?
Not this one. This croquette was made of actual julienned angels (and onion). When I started judging breakfasts, I wondered how much difference there could really be in flavour from place to place, and this croquette took me to school. The highlight of my food in 2012 thus far.
A fan of soft, green avocado with a splitterysplash of olive oil.
It was grilled to perfection – no longer just the flesh of a dead animal, but not yet a stick of carbon. Dear little piles of it. Delicious.
Frankly, the eggs were just a smidgen undercooked, but everything else was so wonderful that I hardly noticed. Organic free range and full of flavour. I honestly, truly, hand on heart cried a little bit when I was eating them. Sure, it’s been an emotional morning and I’ve been crying on and off since 4am, but these were happy tears.
At $21 for eggs and $7 for fresh juice it was on the steep side, but worth every cent and probably even several more cents.
The stuff you see at the rear is a herbed hollandaise that should be bottled and then given to me every day for the rest of my life. Amazing.