It’s a café (well mostly), so it’s breakfast time again. Actually, it’s well past my breakfast time because we have already been off to the beach to get dumped by the shore break at Coogee, and stare in wonder at the enormous numbers of pink clad Nippers running up and down, and swimming all over the place. It’s good to know that there will be a new generation ready to rescue me should my old bones get into strife in the waves. Once we’d been home to wash all the sand out of our cossies, and walked up the hill (“It’s getting to be a long way now isn’t it?” “Yes. Yes, it is.”), we were really looking forward to all the goodness that a bought breakfast brings. And a coffee or two. Unfortunately, when we arrived the place was as full as a goog. We went for a wander for a while, hoping that a vacancy would arise while we checked out the street numbers of the upcoming quest candidates. It’s getting a bit tricky down this end of the street because the odds and evens are coming unstuck from their typical across-the-road relationship. The odds seem hell bent on tearing ahead and getting to St Peters a couple of blocks before the evens. This means of course that we are going to have to Pay Attention when deciding what’s up next. Strop was busy freaking out the owners of the Europe Grill by taking photos of their street number and standing outside making copious notes as they tried to get ready for the Sunday lunch trade. Luckily a couple of tables had become free at Lou Jacks so I was able to hustle her inside before there were any nasty scenes. Lou Jacks is fairly unpretentious with no particular theme to the décor. There is a hint of Greekiness in parts of the menu, and a couple of bottles of retsina lurking on the shelf behind the bar, but it’s very low-key. The vibe is pleasantly honest and straightforward. It’s just a café, with a bit of a courtyard out the back. I have no idea what the name means. I hope it is the names of the owners, but maybe it is their favourite bourbon. Who knows? The service is very efficient, we have a couple of coffee orders away before we have even had time to look at the menu. And the coffee is excellent. The menu is not one of those long ones, full of exotic middle-eastern, or south American meals, that seem to be in vogue at the moment. There is enough choice, but you don’t have to go flipping through pages and pages of exotic choices. I follow my gut (and the rules) and go for the Big Breakfast, while Strop chooses the Peasants Breakfast, which turns out to be a delicious omelette with potato, shallots and fetta – plus a side of bacon. The big breakfast lives up to it’s name with toasted Turkish bread, sausage, haloumi, mushrooms and tomatoes, to keep the eggs and bacon company. Yum. And a couple of orange juices. And two more coffees please. The crowd seemed to be mostly locals, getting their Sunday morning coffee and egg fixes. There were a lot of South’s tee shirts being worn – good to see that they’re maintaining the rage. One young man was waiting for a couple of takeaway coffees with a packet of bacon and a bottle of barbecue sauce in his hand, obviously planning his own version of a big breakfast when he got home. We were pretty full when we decided to move on. By that time the day was getting quite warm, and it was quite tempting to break up the long walk home with a cleansing ale at the Courty, but we resisted. No room.
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