The big breakfast: what to eat after a snow run

Snowy run in Wandsworth Common

During his polar expedition Sir Ranulph Fiennes ate 5,200 calories a day. With this in mind, seeing how snowy it was on Sunday morning, we went on our own expedition (round Wandsworth Common) with the promise of a big breakfast fit for explorers. Running in the snow can be a hazardous business. Just think - snow in your eyes; cold ears; ponds that masquerade as paths. But these dangers, I believed, were all worth conquering for the spoils that were waiting for us at home...

The breakfast box

...namely a box of breakfast goods. Spoiltpig sausages and bacon from Denhay Farm in Dorset's Bridport, mushrooms, eggs, ketchup and smoked chipotle salsa from Tracklements and HP sauce.

A long stretch ahead in Wandsworth

The run was refreshing rather than spikily cold. The snow underfoot - crunchy on grass and squeaky on pavements - gave extra satisfaction to a standard park jog. We ran for breakfast, there was no doubt about it, but it was a joy to run through, especially as we emerged unscathed, without injury and most importantly, without falling over.

The breakfast...

There was no point trying to go fancy. It was all about the classic. Grilled sausages and bacon and fried eggs. Mushrooms fried whole and rolled in the pan with thyme, a slick of butter and a squeeze of lemon. The sausages were fulsome - they had a deep herby flavour - almost black puddingy in depth, but the texture was strangely crumbly. The unsmoked back bacon was very thinly sliced - to the point where there was not much choice but to crisp them up, but that was no detriment to the taste.

Burford Brown eggs

Fried Burford Brown eggs

The real winners were the Burford Brown eggs from Clarence Court, their sunset orange yolks added creamy rich luxury to the breakfast. Though I found their ketchup too sweet, the smoked chipotle salsa from Tracklements was also a welcome discovery. Though it may not be my breakfast staple, I can see it working with cooked meats.

The snow is set to stay awhile. I think that means more breakfast.


Other things we made with the breakfasty ingredients:

Carbonara with spoiltpig bacon

Spaghetti carbonara: Burford Brown eggs, parmesan, parsley, spoiltpig bacon, garlic

Sausage and butterbean stew with chipotle salsa

Sausage and butterbean stew: spoiltpig sausages, garlic, thyme, butterbeans, onion, cloves, tomatoes, dollop of chipotle salsa


With thanks to Phipps for the breakfast box

Click here for more recipe ideas. 

Voracious advent Calendar: Dec 20

Dec 20: Marks & Spencer Egg Cups

The boiled egg is a resolute route to childhood breakfasts. It’s such a complete breakfast – to start with, the whole ritual of sawing off the top with a knife, having hot-buttered soldiers primed for a dipping, digging away to discover whether the yolk is wibbly, salting, or as my friend Sonia does it, soy saucing. No wonder wee ones love it, and I become a kid again when I have a boiled-egg breakfast.

So hurrah M&S for coming out with a handpainted Chick stoneware collection to brighten up breakfast with their quirky hen egg cups and egg baskets. And the egg-cups are £4 each, so they're pretty cheep* too.

They may be handpainted, but can withstand the toils of dishwashing and microwaves.

Chick Hen Egg Cup: £4

Chicken Egg Cup: £4


Chicken Egg Basket: £29.50

And if you’re not into your farmyard animals, M&S also have this regal heritage egg cup to wrap round your soft-boileds.

Heritage Egg Cup: £5

*Punny apologies. I don't know what came over me.

Recipe: Angry Flapjacks

Outrage drove me to make flapjacks. It’s a strange irony that affects all parts of life - that a whole chicken will cost less than two sad slabs of breast, teeny tampons more than big... and thongs? Well, you could buy a pack of three-pack big pants for a thong. And yet I was still shocked when I saw the price of five cereal bars almost twice of a big pack of Sultana Bran.

So I thought - hold on. I’ll make my own cereal bars. That’ll show them.

And actually my flapjacks were so easy to make and so deliciously rewarding that I urge everyone who is a flapjack virgin (as I was until yesterday) to follow this recipe and donate that 15 minutes of toil to yield a week or two’s break-time pleasure.

Okay, so I haven't really shown them. But I do have a certain sense of so there. And more to the point I do have amazing bejewelled flapjacks. So there.

Angry flapjacks

Preheat an oven to 170 degrees (fan oven). Gently heat 100g butter, 4 tablespoons of golden syrup and 50g golden caster sugar together until all melted.

Mix with 225g of rolled oats, 50g mixed nuts (chopped pecans, cashews, walnuts are good) and dried berries (anything like raisins, cranberries, blueberries are gorgeous).

Spread into lined and buttered baking tin. Stick into the oven for 20 minutes until the oats have a satisfying golden sheen, and the berries glisten and take out. It should be smelling ridiculously homely. Slice into 10 portions.

Leave to cool for 10 minutes, then slice through again. They are crispy yet yielding with surprising bursts of dried fruit. Delicious over yogurt.

Note: Use baking parchment not foil to line the baking tin as in the picture above.

The Wolseley: The Art of Breakfasting

Mr Random has breakfasting at The Wolseley in Piccadilly down to a fine art.

The staff have his direct line. He skips through the door confidently as he exhibits the mutual love and respect between them. A breakfast without at least three unplanned fortuitous meetings would be unthinkable; The Wolseley is his office and his playground.

I had previously eaten at The Wolseley approximately two and a half times. The half because I had been taken for dinner with a good friend, a vegetarian, who unreasonably banned me from eating fois gras and meat. The other two times had been forgettable, not because The Wolseley had underperformed, but because I had - by suffering from drinks-related ailments.

So when Mr Random, a stalwart of the advertising industry (who coined his own name on account of bumping into me randomly three times), invited me to The Wolseley, I knew this was going to be the real thing; the Pixie to my Katie Waissel, the Coke to my Pepsi.

There are a few things to the art of breakfasting:

Sitting at the right table
"It used to be a car showroom, now it's a people showroom,” my companion says. “You can have that one," he adds mischievously. And indeed it is. We sit in a banquette intimate enough for good conversation, but open to see and be seen. Normally I would object to this sort of behaviour, but his working of the room as streams of people who knew him came to our table, made fascinating viewing.

Wearing statement attire
My companion was encased in top-to-toe purple. A peacock designed to be looked at, with the fabulous addition of striking cufflinks fashioned from Viagra pills. If you’re a girl, Louboutins help.


Ordering unembarrassing food
Think carefully before ordering the fully stuffed bacon roll. This is akin to ordering spaghetti on a first date. Don’t do it. The expectation is that you eat as you talk. Be ready to jump up and greet. To say I have been caught out on occasion is a huge understatement. AA Gill once wrote an ode to porridge for his first review of The Wolseley. Now I know why.

And so to the food.

My companion ordered classic eggs benedict with coffee.


I had scrambled eggs on white toast with slats of bacon.

The scrambled eggs were perfectly set, with that slight creamy wibble (and you know how I like wibble). The bacon had edges of crispness. If I wasn't in a people showroom, I would have shovelled the clouds of scrambled eggs with a rasher in my mouth. But I didn't want to embarrass my companion, so I resisted.


Some English Breakfast tea, fresh orange juice and fruity chat washed the breakfast down - a breakfast elegant but hearty helped by the impeccable service.

I could write a whole other post on the art of conversation, but shall leave that for another time when the artist, Mr Random, next decides to exhibit.

The Wolseley
160 Piccadilly, London, W1J 9EB
020 7449 6996