Sometimes a chat gets a little out of hand over Twitter, and you find yourself organising a brunch date with a bevy of beautiful blogging lovelies early(ish) on a Saturday morning. We left our duvets, other halves, pets and alarms snoozing at home whilst we migrated from all over London to gather over coffee cups and eggs.
Now, I won’t share anything that I don’t adore on the blog. If it isn’t right good, it doesn’t get mentioned or it gets shared alongside flaws and all. Whether I’ve been invited or more often I’ve paid for something out of my own purse, it doesn’t matter. I’ve been to restaurants that were completely lacking in flavour, eaten some fairly grisly steak, sampled brunches that didn’t live up to their beautiful surroundings and spent hours travelling to destinations that simply lacked any interest. Enthusiasm is my stock in blog trade, and I have to admit that Bourne and Hollingsworth almost didn’t make the cut. I’m sad to say the coffee was a bit rough for me and I’m told the fried breakfast was a touch lacklustre.
I tried their crispy potato hash with a poached hen’s egg, salmon and hollandaise. I liked the majority of parts well enough; lovely salmon, good hollandaise and a nicely cooked egg. Good. But the hash stumped me a little. It was crispy right enough, but not worthy of the hash title. They were really chopped chips served with a too sweet onion marmalade that clashed with the sweetness of the salmon.
I think the answer is that as fussy as I’ve become about eggs benedict (I even made a text diagram), I’m becoming with potato hash/rostis. When I think hash, it’s the hashbrowns of my childhood that are conjured in my food memory; grated seasoned potato that is luscious in the middle and beautifully golden crisp to the outside bite (or the swiftly getting smaller East End-style Ozone hashcakes). If I was hungover (and that happens too often to be proud of), and if I fancied a proper feed to cure said self inflicted woes, the below might just appeal.
Perhaps it’s a matter of language – one man’s hash could be another man’s illegal breakfast. (That’s not what you thought I was going to finish with, was it? Get your mind out of the gutter people… or get to Amsterdam. One of the two).
BUT the service was lovely – we were left to solve world problems shoot the breeze in the way that only a group of nattering women can without any upsell attempts, no eye rolling or subtle shoving the bill towards us, even though we went over our table time and there were other hungry customers patiently waiting.
And I rather loved the design. A clever mixture of modern chintz, beautiful hanging plants and a touch of hipster cool, all on an industrial chic canvas. The sun was shining on a crisp Autumn day and I didn’t really want to leave, instead I wanted to snuggle into a corner with a cup of tea and a good book.
And it’s 110% instagrammable. That’s totes a legit YOLO comment, right!? (Please say I did those correctly!)
B&H I will be back to re-sample your dishes. That I will do in the name of blog – I feel like you need a second chance.