For good eggs in a pleasant ambiance

At first it looks impossible – the new Lozenets apartment buildings abound and Paris and London are far, far away. But in 2030 Brasserie, the black-and-white photos with Paris street scenes and movie icon portraits, the chequered tile floor, the dried lavender, the few issues of the Financial Times, the blackboard displaying the daily menu in white chalk, the chandeliers, the Oscar Wilde quote at the bar ("The only thing I can’t resist is temptation"), and Edith Piaf’s voice take us a bit closer to La Manche.

Even though we arrived a few minutes before the place officially opened at 10.30am and remained the sole customers throughout our leisurely Sunday breakfast, we could sense the thrilling vibe of a restaurant poised in anticipation of the day ahead.

In 2030 Brasserie we discovered the richest egg breakfast menu, which included bio eggs Benedict (with ham, on toast, with Hollandaise sauce); Florentine (with spinach, on toast, with Hollandaise sauce); Royal (with spinach and smoked salmon, on toast, with Hollandaise sauce); omelette with mushrooms, emental or salmon; and full English breakfast.

We started with the eggs Benedict (6.50 leva), which were delicious, but not Benedict. The kitchen was out of ham, and the waiter suggested they substitute it with something of my choice. I asked that the chef improvise, and he had chosen brie, which turned out to be very tasty, though heavy, in combination with the other ingredients. Unlike the classic eggs Benedict, which are served on an English muffin, these arrived on a local and thicker alternative. The poached eggs were perfectly done – still soft, but not entirely runny. The Hollandaise was creamy and smooth (one of the challenges when preparing this emulsion of butter, lemon juice and egg yolks) and served, appropriately, warm, not hot.

We also ordered an omelette with mushrooms and emental (eight leva). Here, too, the omelette resembled a well-done egg pancake folded in two, but with plenty of mushrooms and a great taste.

The pressed coffee was weak. The cappuccino was a better choice for jump-starting the day, but I am against the sprinkled chocolate. If sprinkling is a must, then let it be with cinnamon, please.

For an all-day meal
We arrived at Murphy’s just after the Irish pub had opened at noon. It was little late for breakfast, but inside Murphy’s one quickly loses track of the time of day and year. The dark interior and muted lighting are impervious to changes in the daylight, and the windows facing the street all but disappear the deeper you walk into the establishment. It is the perfect place for extreme weather conditions; it would offer cosiness in a snowstorm and an oasis of cool in the midst of summer heat. Ironically, we got here on quite a moderate day, looking not for refuge, but for traditional Irish breakfast.

Establishing what is the definitive Irish breakfast is not an easy task. It is certainly a high-calorie meal that includes eggs, meat and bread. The eggs are fried and there are at least two types of meat – sausages and Irish bacon. Some insist adding blood pudding or white pudding. Some recipes call for potatoes (boiled, cooled, then fried), beans (usually canned) or both. Grilled tomatoes and mushrooms are also an option.

The Irish breakfast at Murphy’s (13 leva) includes two eggs, five Irish sausages, three slices of Irish bacon, beans, mushrooms, tomato, onion, buttered toast and a glass of orange juice (not freshly squeezed). The eggs were golden on the bottom with soft yolks. The Irish sausages were our favourite part – juicy and slightly spicy. But when I bit into the slightly bland bacon, fat ran down my chin. Irish bacon comes from the pig’s back, not from the belly like American bacon. It is sliced in large oval pieces, not in thin long strips. And, unfortunately, it is not fried till crunchy, but until dark golden and still soft.

My guest and I shared a breakfast and it wasn’t until 9pm that evening that I started preparing a light dinner.

William Somerset Maugham once said that the only way to eat well in England is to have breakfast three times a day. At Murphy’s that would be perfectly possible.

If all else fails
Slightly after 10am at Brasserie, I need coffee to shake off the hangover from the previous night. My friend and I are alone, save for two women enjoying their morning coffee and cigarette. There is a blue plastic bag with a bagel and Aktivia on the table in front of them. There are breadcrumbs on most tables, and the chill-out music makes me think of Mojito, not bio breakfast. I guess the waiter felt the same way, because he brought over the drinks menu and we had to ask for the breakfast one. The Bio Breakfast Menu (though it wasn’t clear what was bio about it) is served until noon during the week and all day long on the weekend.

Breakfast items sounded promising and somewhat mystifying, which fed great expectations. We chose a cucumber and avocado salad with sunflower seeds, olive oil and lemon (six leva), a whole-wheat "waffle" with cheeses and fresh vegetables (7.50 leva), and omelette with cheese and chicken (6.50 leva) and a fresh-baked croissant (two leva).
The salad, which sounded quite interesting on paper, was quite uninteresting to the palate. The avocado was lost somewhere in the pale green cucumber pile and the sunflower seeds were slightly rancid.

The "waffle" (as the English menu called it), turned out it to be two slices of whole wheat toast with a slice of feta between them, garnished with two slices of tomato and four slices of cucumber. Truth be told, once I added some cucumber and tomato to the cheese between the bread, the sandwich was quite fresh and tasty, but far from what I imagined when I first read "cheeses and fresh vegetables", a phrase that had made me think of chevre, brie, avocado and such.

The omelette scored highest. The chef had been generous on the chicken, the cheese was just right, and the fresh parsley added a zing in taste and look.

The croissant was warm, with great texture and appropriately decadently greasy. Unfortunately, it had a strange aftertaste reminiscent of a gas oven. It may be the result of hydrogenated fats, which have a higher temperature of melting and are often used in baking. They must also be responsible for the strange lining of the roof of my mouth, which my tongue compulsively tried to lick off long after we had settled the bill.