Keep your beans. Breakfast noobs.
Thin sliced pancetta just but only to the small j of just crisp, 2 perfectly poached fresh eggs. Wafer whisps of a hard italian type cheese like parmagiano. A little smoked salmon sliced thin, and to perfect it all a few pickled onions.
Proper black coffee.
This fellas is The Breakfast Of The Gods.
Might sound odd but then you try it and you splutter, your eyes widen. You realise you have unlocked a super combo of self supporting flavours. Perfect in simplicity yet combining to dazzle the senses. You have just graduated to the crack cocaine of breakfasts.
And then, even in the first few moments you realise you are caught. You will spend your life chasing the high of the first hit.
As your money dwindles away you find yourself trying Sainos back bacon and cutting it with dried mik powder to eke out the hit. It doesnt work. Soon you find your self picking up empty macy D breakfast wrappers and sniffing them desperately. Then you break down in tears as you think of your family and how the finally disowned you after the shame and theft and lies about how you were done for good this time with fish sticks finally got too much. Now you are on the streets. You pull you coat collar up against the frigid October wind. A family hurry past pulling their child away from your gaze as they wak home bags full from the weekly shop. The words stumble in your mouth, please... hungry ... could you spare just... a little...
The lady looks at you. A kind face. Caring. It softens... well. I suppose...we could spare a tin of beans?