The Spotted Pig, New York

I was going to say that I had three faggots down in the West Village late one night, until it occurred to me that some people might get the wrong idea. It's true. I did have three faggots. Three of the juiciest, tastiest faggots you could wish for. And I picked them up at The Spotted Pig, 314 W. 11th Street, corner of Greenwich St, New York, NY, Tel +1 212 620 0393.



These were, of course, faggots of porcine persuasion. Deliciously soft and fleshy parcels of pork cheek, pork liver and farro (an ancient and seemingly trendy grain), wrapped in belly fat and cooked in bacon juice. Sprinkled on top were crunchy, crackly slivers of pigs ear. It was Brokeback Mountain meets Reservoir Dogs on a plate, served with a side of brussels sprouts. Magnificent.

Now, some of you picky, anal types may be tut-tutting about now, wondering how I can call this a breakfast review. Leaving aside the fact that faggots are sausages and sausages are legitimate breakfast food, I started this meal with a small plate of eggs. Two halves of deviled eggs, actually. So this was a meal of sausages and eggs. The perfect late night breakfast. All washed down with a pint of Old Speckled Hen.

Le Pain Quotidien, New York

Sometimes I like to keep it simple...

Petit Robert Bistro, Boston

It sounded intriguing. A scrambled quiche omelette. It wasn't. It was an omelette with random bits of quiche thrown in, served on a plate so hot I felt the need to request a pair of asbestos gloves. Not impressed with Petit Robert Bistro, 480 Columbus Avenue, Boston (South End) MA, Tel +1 (617) 867 0600.



This really was a sorry excuse for a breakfast. Shove the skanky leftovers of quiche into an overcooked omelette. Garnish with dried parsley sprinkles. Plate up two shriveled halves of potato. Scoop a fistful of limp carrot strips and green beans onto the plate. Et voila! Brunch.

Avoid this place like the plague.

9/20 "scrambled merde"