After a comparatively big night out, this morning I cycled over to Robertson Quay for brunch at Epicurious. You can’t reserve a table there, and it gets rammed later on, so we had our meal at the early time of 10:30. That’s early if you’re young, childless and pounding the beers till 3am, or late morning if you have kids. I suppose I fall squarely in the middle until next week.

We sat outside; it wasn’t oppressively sunny, but if you weren’t in the shade of the awning you could be quite uncomfortable. The tables are a bit rickety, and the whole menu is made of eggs, but that’s not a bad thing.

There are eggs with curry, baked eggs, green eggs and ham, a breakfast burrito (surely a brunch burrito, eh?) and so on. I had two fried eggs, and tried unsuccessfully to have the accompanying homefries substituted with grilled tomato. Apparently that was impossible, so I eventually chose to have a side of salad, a slightly disappointing heap of leaves drizzled with a gloomy brown sauce. (Not Brown Sauce though, thank God.)

Coffee is ok at Epicurious: it’s by no means terrible, but only really adequate. The better thing to drink is one of the juices: apple and ginger has a particular kick to it.

The fried eggs were fine. I was going to ask rhetorically how hard can it be to fry an egg, but after the time I got extravagant food poisoning from a fried egg in a Macau casino, I have to admit it can be quite hard. The toast that came with it was minuscule, vanishingly small bits of bread.

We had a very relaxed brunch, sitting there for an hour and a half without ever being hurried by the waitstaff, despite the incoming customers accumulating around us. Unfortunately, getting a bill is quite hard. It’s not that the staff aren’t particularly good at service, so much as management seems to have overestimated how many tables each person can attend to. So be prepared for a slow getaway. If you’d arrived later than 10:30 and had to wait a long time to get seated, I imagine this combination could be quite aggravating.

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