Brekky Spiel and the Buffet Brekky at the Atrium, Crown

Going out for brekky needs to become a thing. 

I wouldn’t say I’m a brekky person; heck, I hardly ever have it. 

But there are just so many great things to love and ponder about breakfast.

It’s the meal of versatility—it can be enjoyed as a meal in its own right or quite acceptably as that wonderful coalescence of morning and afternoon food: brunch. 

There are breakfast grey areas. What time is breakfast? Sunrise to the second before noon? The moment you break the fast from the night before? Does an insubstantial but satiable snack in the ungodly hours of the morning count as brekky? At what point does breakfast stop being breakfast? 

Then there are the endless choices for breakfasts. Big breakfast or a bite? Hot or cold? Milk, juice, coffee, coffee with cream? Sweet or savoury? Eggs, how do you want them? Toast, light, dark, burnt? Spreads, jam, butter? Toasties? Noodles? Last night’s dinner?All too difficult, maybe grab a bacon and egg McMuffin? 

The confounding effect of the breadth of choice is not to be underestimated. With an important decision to be made, it’s easy to see why going the way of Maccas for brekky is popular. I reckon I’ve got more of a chance of digging my way to China than seeing the retirement of the McMuffin. QED. It’s that popular. McBreakfasts guarantee nutrition on the go with essential proteins, carbs, and fats in one convenient package. How they didn’t patent the design of such a gastronomical masterpiece, a leader in the competitive breakfast arena, is beyond me. And you can even get them with fries. 

People who say it’s all about getting up earlier just aren’t acknowledging the existence of a very real dilemma. There are complexities to be appreciated. Attitudes toward perfectly good methods for achieving breakfast enjoyability and fulfilment need to change in everyday conversation. To the Joes and Janes frequenting cafés daily for the toasty and coffee ‘special’ you could’ve made at home if the alarm were set ten minutes earlier: let no earlier starters pass judgment. 

Sure, breakfast in the morning does often mean getting up earlier. What about the benefit to local businesses and stimulation of the economy by your purchases if you don’t? It’s also why God created the thing called ‘all-day breakfast’ on day seven. And here’s where I mention my useless tip of the day: describe all breakfasts, like those taken beyond tradition breakfast time, as such to mask your potentially misunderstood sleeper-in-erer habits. 

Because, really, breakfast is a great option however and whenever you like it. Weetbix at 2am, scrambled eggs and baked beans on toast in front of the telly all have my vote. Skipping breakfast also seems a fair choice if you’re not one to have a decent appetite early in the morning.

The Atrium Buffet 

On this occasion, I decided on the everything buffet breakfast option and booked a table at the Atrium. At $39 per person, it’s pricey but if you manage a plate and a coffee, or two, valuewise and relative to what you’d get at normal café prices I think it isn’t bad. 

The Atrium on a Saturday morning was busy. With an abundance of floor realestate, tables to spare were plentiful. 

Here’s what I had. It looks a bit like a Red Dot store on a plate. I apologise. I felt like an assortment of flavours, a mishmash of tastes in the one hit. Dim sum and curry and scrambled eggs and tempura vegetables all together has almost certainly taken off in a parallel universe. 

The freshness of all the hot items was the biggest win today. Big love for the curries which were well done. The dim sum was tragic though: worse than the frozen stuff at ColesWorth. Traditional hot breakfast items, the eggs, hash browns, grilled tomatoes were delicious. I imagine a good hot breakfast something pretty standard for a hotel to put up, apart from their guests (sheesh that was bad!). 

The dishes I had didn’t disappoint. Apart from the dim sum, everything was moreish. 

Oddly, they offered steak near the sausage stations. It was a budget cut of beef that’d been badly bashed. It wore the markings of a run-in with an angry butcher brandishing a meat tenderiser. It was very odd. Even more odd, the meat was still chewy.

Juices were self-serve on tap and to my delight there were waiters doing coffee rounds.

Dessert for breakfast I had to do. The strawberry pink thing was a supple, creamy jelly. The chocolate tart canapé had a crisp base and a coffee hit to it. The chocolate-filled glazed doughnut was nice; better than the light sort of pastry that doughnut vendors like Mop churn. How cute is the mini honey? Good quality, thick honey. I doused the otherwise dry-ish carrot cake with the stuff. I’d recommend all the desserts I tried. I would’ve needed a much bigger stomach; they’ve a range of breads, muffins, ice cream, condiments to mix, pudding, for starters—or shall I say dessert.

The vibe on this day I have to mention. On this day-before-Mother’s Day, it was an incredibly relaxed feeling. Laid back and casual, how it should be. Sometimes no matter what you do, no matter the environment, no matter where you are, no matter who you’re with, no matter how you try, a moment of peace eludes you. Something in the air today took the hustle and bustle out of life for just a moment. That’s better than nothing. 

I think we need to do more breakfasts.

Taste verdict Saturday morning breakfast buffet success! (Noun string…) Something of everything. Great food. 


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