Dutch Pancake Cafe, Stowe

Apparently someone at the New York Times called it the world's most decadent breakfast. I can confirm that you will not leave the Dutch Pancake Cafe hungry. Indeed, if, like me, you order the monster pancake with shredded potato, onion and cheese, you may want to declare the rest of the day a no-ski zone. Either that, or run the risk of a serious ACL injury halfway down your first set of moguls. The human knee is only designed to carry so much weight.

Friendly Toast, Cambridge

Finally, a diner to die for...

A Butler's Manor, Southampton

Greenwich, CT, may be the hedge fund capital of the world. But a short ferry-ride, and a quick spin in the Ferrari, and you're in the hedge capital of the world, otherwise known as Southampton. Great, long, neatly trimmed hedges, as far as the eye can see. Like a big green blanket, keeping your 11 room beach shack protected from prying eyes. But what about the rest us? Whither the Jitney class? Those forced to scrape out an existence on the wrong side of the hedge. Is a Hamptons holiday out of reach? Is there a life for us South of Route 27? Well yes, as it turns out. A very pleasant life at A Butler's Manor, 244 North Main Street, Southampton, NY, Tel +1 (631) 283-8550. And a very good breakfast, too.



It's a B+B, of course, so if you want the breakfast you need to buy a bed. But you won't be disappointed. Over three mornings, my favorite was an egg strata, which is an egg pie concoction, blending cubes of sourdough, chunks of ham, cheese, eggs, some veggies and a crusty cornflake topping. Baked to perfection by Kim and served with the touch of a seasoned butler by Chris. Very civilized.

This was the first time I'd had egg strata, and it was a welcome discovery. Who knew you could successfully combine eggs and cornflakes in one dish? And just when I thought I'd heard it all, another breakfast discovery lands in my lap. That same day, while chit-chatting over post-wedding drinks and nibbles (including mini-croque monsieurs, to my great delight), I'm asked if I've ever had scrapple. Scrapple? Never heard of it. Until now. But I'm already planning a trip to Pennsylvania to rectify this oversight. How can I resist the lure of a fried slice of pork mush topped with a couple of eggs? Let no part of the pig go to waste.

The only twist with breakfast at Butler's is that everyone dines together and everyone eats the dish du jour. This can be a good thing, since it eliminates the stress of choosing, and you can meet and talk to strangers whether they like it or not. But don't worry. Those with special food or social needs can always request special treatment. The hosts are very accomodating.

Porgie + Mr Jones, Hawthorn

Melbourne's best scrambled eggs? Mr Jones' scrambles with Holy Goat cheese is certainly a contender, with soft, light folds of "happy" free range eggs dotted with silky chunks of goat's curd. The scrambling technique is so light touch that this dish pushes the boundary between scrambles and omelette. Maybe they should call it a scromelette? Maybe not. Either way, it's a must-try breakfast when you visit Porgie + Mr Jones, 291 Auburn Road, Hawthorn, Tel +61 3 9882 2966.



There has already been much raving about P+MJ (as they like to call themselves), with kate and zoe even proclaiming the place Melbourne's best cafe. I don't know if I'd go that far, but it certainly deserves A-list status. The only weak links I can think of are service and coffee, which are merely good, not great.

Food-wise, they didn't put a foot wrong. The poached eggs were excellent. Ditto the thyme-buttered mushies and smashed avocado. There were loud squeals of protest when I tried to steal a taste of the ham, cheese and tomato croissant off the plate of a 2-year-old. And at $4.90, I very nearly ordered a McPorgie chaser: a toasted english muffin stuffed with gypsy ham and "creamy dreamy" scrambles.

Sweet tooths are also well-served: toasted banana bread with maple syrup marscapone, fresh banana, berry compote and crushed pistachios ($12.90); Carmen's bircher muesli with cinnamon poached pear and honeyed yoghurt ($9.90); toasted Noisette fruit bread ($6); and croissants with Bonne Maman jam ($5.50).

And all served in the buzzy surrounds of a designer, recycled, pseudo-industrial fitout. Like a tiny oasis of Fitzroy in the suburbs.

18/20 "silky scrambles"

Stardust Diner, New York

Where do budding broadway stars work in between gigs? They wait tables at Ellen's Stardust Diner, 1650 Broadway, Corner of 51st, New York, NY, Tel +1 (212) 956 5151. Which should be fair warning to anyone in search of an above-average breakfast.



My cheese and spinach omelette was fine. But let's not mince words. It was average. Just an omelette, served with some french fries and toast. Nothing to get excited about. Nothing to complain about.

If peace and quiet you crave, however, you will have much to complain about. There is much singing, you see. One by one, the waiters and waitresses take the mike and belt out their favorite hits. Kind of like eating breakfast on the set of American Idol. I just wish Simon Cowell was there to break things up a bit.

Actually, the singing is much better than Idol. What this place really needs is a good dose of Gordon Ramsay. You call that $#it a f#c%ing omelette?

11/20 "breakfast idol"

Hotel Montanus, Brugge

Never has a hotel name had more potential for potty-mouth schoolboy jokes than the Hotel Montanus, Nieuwe Gentweg 78, Brugge, Belgium, Tel +32 50 33 11 76. But I am going to resist the temptation. Instead, I will talk only of the sweet buns, delicious chocolate spread, and other delights from the brunch buffet.



It was a bit of a lucky dip, the brunch buffet. The smiling yellow tub of Kwatta, for example, was a mystery to me until I peeled back the lid to discover gooey chocky spread inside. Little did I know that Kwatta apparently pioneered chocolate bars and spreads almost 100 years ago.

So, dip and spread some chocolate on your bun. Scoff it down. Switch to ham, eggs and cheese. Scoff it down. Back to Kwatta. Scoff. A bit more meat, cheese and bun. Scoff. Coffee. Slurp. More cheese and bun. You'll never get bored at the Belgian brunch buffet.

Novotel Century, Hong Kong

No, I didn't choke on a kipper. I have been travelling. For a month. With no time for blogging, but plenty of time for eating. Including about a week's worth of hotel omelettes at the Novotel Century in Wan Chai, where the omelette man custom-builds your omelette right there in front of you. A much better option than the scrambled eggs that have been stewing under the salamander for however long. Not perfect omelettes... slightly overcooked and a bit too oiled-up, but quite acceptable. I had mine with ham, cheese and onion.

Vue de Monde, Melbourne

They served eggs, so I'm treating it as a late breakfast. And without doubt the most expensive breakfast I'm ever likely to have. Then again, I don't normally have seven courses, matched with seven wines, and water harvested from a Tasmanian cloud. There's nothing normal about a meal at Vue de Monde, 430 Little Collins Street, Melbourne, +61 3 9691 3888.



The eggs, for example, were salty little fish eggs, served atop a hens egg with some lobster mousse hidden inside. The only thing missing was toast soldiers.



The coolest dish was a stripy little terrine with layers of pate de foie gras, rabbit rillettes, carrot, minced ham and something green. It was, as our waiter noted, a very Paul Smith look.



The waiters (and waitresses) are all very professional. Like a good stalker, they're never far away, and their knowledge of the food and wine is scary. It was explained to me, for example, that the Tasmanian cloud water I was drinking was only harvested when the atmospheric particle count was below a certain level. Seriously.



If there was one disappointment, it was the "cheese course" which was actually a cheese square topped with a few slivers of fresh fig. It was a very nice cheese square. Gruyere, to be precise. But it was just a cheese square. I felt like Mr Pitt, sitting there, eating a cheese square with my Laguiole knife and fork.

Otherwise, we had a delicious, cheesy, brown mushroom risotto, smothered in black truffle shavings (not sure what all the fuss is about with truffles); some strips of wagyu beef poached in a clear soup with a few trimmings like spinach mousse and deep fried bone marrow (good, not great); a lobster and witlof salad (probably my favorite); and a self-saucing chocolate pudding (I've had better).