Ah, the Sunday brunch. A time-honoured British tradition, a refuge from the relentless march of the week, and, let’s be honest, a potential minefield of existential dread.
We’ve all been there. You wake up late, the remnants of Saturday night’s revelry clinging to you like a cheap suit. The newspaper headlines scream of impending doom, and the bottomless pit of your empty stomach seems to echo the vast emptiness of existence.
But fear not, fellow traveller on this absurd journey called life! For within the humble embrace of the Sunday brunch lies the potential for solace, sustenance, and even a flicker of joy.
Step One: The Ritual of Tea
First things first, tea. A steaming mug of builder’s brew, strong enough to knock the existential cobwebs off your brain, is the cornerstone of any good Sunday brunch.
Steep your preferred leaves (Yorkshire Tea, for the purists) in a proper pot – none of those flimsy teabag contraptions here – and pour yourself a generous cup. Inhale the robust aroma, feel the warmth seep into your hands, and allow the gentle act of brewing to become a mini-meditation, a moment of quiet contemplation before the glorious chaos that is brunch.
Step Two: The Crumpet Conundrum
Now, the crumpet. This seemingly simple baked good is, in fact, a philosophical paradox. To toast or not to toast? That is the question. A golden, toasted crumpet offers a satisfying crunch and holds its shape admirably under the weight of your chosen toppings. But a fresh, untoasted crumpet possesses a delightful, almost doughy, texture that perfectly soaks up butter and jam.
The choice, dear reader, is yours. But choose wisely, for in this seemingly trivial decision lies a metaphor for life itself – the comfort of the familiar versus the thrill of the unknown.
Step Three: The Full English Breakfast – A Toast to Tradition
The Full English Breakfast: a veritable feast fit for a king (or, more realistically, someone who slightly overindulged the night before).
Sausage, bacon, eggs (done to your liking, of course), baked beans, mushrooms, grilled tomatoes, black pudding (for the adventurous), and a hash brown (because why not?) piled high on a warm plate. This dish is a celebration of British culinary tradition, a hearty reminder that even in the face of existential angst, there is still pleasure to be found in the simple act of consuming a good fry-up.
Step Four: The Continental Cousin
But perhaps the Full English isn’t your cup of tea (or, more accurately, mug of tea). Fear not, for the world of brunch is vast and varied.
Perhaps you fancy a lighter option, a croissant or pain au chocolat, flaky and buttery, begging to be dipped into coffee or hot chocolate. Or maybe you’re feeling a touch more adventurous, seeking a taste of the exotic with huevos rancheros or a stack of fluffy pancakes drizzled with maple syrup.
The beauty of brunch lies in its infinite possibilities. It is a canvas upon which you can paint your own culinary masterpiece, a reflection of your own unique personality and preferences.
Step Five: The Art of Conversation (and Avoiding Existential Dread)
Finally, no brunch is complete without good conversation. Engage with your fellow brunchers, be they friends, family, or even strangers at the next table. Discuss the latest episode of your favourite show, reminisce about the good old days, or simply revel in the shared experience of breaking bread (or crumpets) together. By focusing on the present moment, on the company you keep, and on the simple pleasure of good food and good company, you may just find that the existential dread melts away, replaced by a warm sense of connection and belonging.
So, there you have it. My guide to navigating the existential minefield that is Sunday brunch. Remember, it’s not just about the food (although the food is important). It’s about the ritual, the connection, and the small moments of joy that make life worth living, even when the universe seems intent on reminding you of its vast indifference.
Now, go forth, conquer your brunch, and face the coming week with a renewed sense of purpose (and a full stomach).
The Dave Price Blog 