Breakfast Club

Hey, kids! With the aura of a chipper kids’ TV presenter, the Breakfast Club invites punters to wallow in an ersatz homage to an 1980s youth, with Roland Rat posters and the soundtrack of a ‘90s adolescence. Given that many of these now thirty-somethings have children of their own in tow, it seems odd to make them struggle by not providing a single high chair to cater to what must be a good chunk of the venue’s target demographic. Whatever, folks are willing to queue for the comfort food at weekends. A long list of brunch options runs from sweet – a moreish stack of french toast with cinnamon apples – to savoury, with a chorizo hash that makes you mop up every drop of paprika-inflected lard with your home fries. Burgers, burritos and baked potatoes round out the menu. It’s hearty and at times heart-stopping, though smoothies with waggish names such as the ‘Pommy Granny’ (pomegranate and berries) add a healthful note. The shabby chic crosses the line into needing some plasterwork in corners, and service was merely functional, but it’s a hit formula nonetheless for this mini-chain.