Last weekend Mr Moi and I decided to enjoy a leisurely breakfast in a restaurant. When I say restaurant, it’s really a cafe with a very extensive menu: breakfast, lunch, dinner, tea, coffee, juice, vodka and cigarettes. You know, the norm.
And this place conforms to the Kyiv tradition of serving lattes, cappucinos, mochas and the like with a bendy straw, rather than a spoon. In my humble experience, this is the tell-tale sign of bad coffee.
Perusing the list of breakfast delights available, it was hard to make up one’s mind.
“Do you fancy the Russian breakfast?” I ask Mr Moi.
“What’s in that?” he asks.
“Curd cheese, sour cream, pickles, potato pancakes, dill, potato pancakes, pickles, sour cream ad curd cheese,” I say.
“Ah… no thanks. I might have the Mexican breakfast,” he say.
“What’s in that?” I ask.
“Curd cheese, sausages, omlette, dill, toast, and beans,” he says.
“Cool. Well, I’m going to have ‘The energising breakfast: low-fat energy for those active people‘ breakfast,” I say.
“What in that?” he asks.
“Omlette with chicken and pickles. Sounds interesting, but not unappealing to my weird tastebuds. And it doesn’t sound too fatty; I know they don’t put cheese on the omlettes here,” I say.
So, we order away and sip on our juice and feel all healthy because we’ve just finished a session of sweat busting at the gym.
About 20 minutes later, out comes Mr Moi’s breakfast. On the plate are some little spicy sausages, beans, a huge lump of soppy cottage cheese mixed with dill, and a giant omlette.
“Interesting, but not unappetising,” he says.
This is closely followed by my plate, upon which sits a a giant omlette (seriously, I think about 6 eggs).
“Interesting, but not unappetising,” I say.
And so I dig in. I cut open the omlette, and out oozes a bit of chicken, followed by a little bit of pickled cucumber.
Hang on… Oozes? With my knife and fork, I pry open the omlette. It’s 100 per cent, chock-a-block full of mayonaise. And to complement the chicken, pickle and mayo, there’s a healthy sprinkling of dill, sitting on a bed of limp, cooked lettuce.
How this is low fat and energising, I have no idea. More like artery blocking and sluggish-movement inducing.
There was only one thing I could do.
“Uh, Mr Moi… Do you want to swap breakfasts?”