Breakfast at Bonito’s

I have no one to blame but myself. Actually, the more I think about it, the more I think it is mainly Mo’s fault. That’s right Mo Farah, if you weren’t such an amazing athlete I would have woken up wide eyed, fresh faced, and not felt the need to eat fried eggs. If Mo had not been running in the early hours of the morning in Rio I would have been in bed at a sensible hour, but he was running, and up I stayed to watch him storm around the track and take another gold. It was Mo’s fault that I was bouncing around the living room sometime after 1.30 am on Saturday night/Sunday morning. It was Mo’s fault that I was screaming at the TV, it was Mo’ fault that the dog was barking, it was Mo’s fault that I had that last sweet sherry to celebrate him winning his fourth Olympic gold medal. Mo was simply incredible, and I blame him that I needed to have a fry up on Sunday morning to try and make myself feel better.

The cafe of choice to celebrate the future Sir Mo’s success was Cafe Bonito on Wood Street, and it didn’t disappoint. We needed to pop to Homebase (yawn) and Bonito’s was the perfect pit stop to call in to on the way home. With the DIY shopping out of the way, we meandered across Wood Street Plaza, headed in to the cafe and ordered before the waitress had chance to say hello to us. Two full breakfasts, one tea and one hot chocolate please, oh, and maybe some water and a vat of ketchup, thanks. Order placed, we gazed at each other through tired eyes and decided that talking was too much like hard work. Our eyes drifted around the cafe, darting from one side of the room to the other, taking in the eclectic mix of stuff that lines the walls. Guitars hang on the picture rail, a colourful painted screen stands in the corner, a sign reads ‘If god speaks to you consider medication’.

As you may know, Bonito’s serves the best hot chocolate in the world. Honestly, this is a widely recognised fact, the hot chocolate can not be beaten. Happily, their fry up is also pretty good, and when it arrived on the table I wasted no time digging in.  Bacon, sausage, beans, mushroom, chips, toast and an egg, all for £4.90, which seems pretty good value to me. We tucked in to our food, each mouthful making the ache of the late night fade away, each chomp of fried goodness fixing the damage done the evening before. Eating in silence under a canopy of lamp shades, letting the music from the record player wash around us, slowly we began to come back to life.

Bonito’s is one of those cafes that feels home made, it feels like it has evolved in to what it is, it hasn’t been over planned or engineered, it simply just happened, and that makes it perfect for unplanned Sunday mornings. This weekends visit followed what was an amazing night for Mo Farah, and a fantastic games for team GB. Breakfast at Bonito’s didn’t just fix us, it reminded us that we should visit this little cafe more frequently. It may not be that close to where we live, but it really is a gem of a place and offers much more than just hot chocolate.