The past

Do you think about me, about the times left behind

the tears, the laughter and the despair we shared

from the silly inside jokes

to the guttural screams,

the heaving of your chest as you wept freely


in my arms,

your sunken eyes

 after a week of sleepless nights,

the line of sweat in your furrowed eyebrows

after being awaken by another set of night terrors

All that glitters is not gold

The quaint sign outside announcing Remo’s, held promises of amazing food. As I’m not one for long stretched suspense I’ll tell you now that amazing, is a far cry from what I enjoyed. 

Another goodbye brunch merited the request of eggs benedict,  when it arrived I knew all was not well. The sad looking ham, and a pale hollandaise foretold of an average meal to be enjoyed. Complications with a cup of camomile tea further provided cause for concern. 

I left disappointed wishing I’d just made the meal myself, assured that even in my novice state I could pull of something better than the sadness I encountered in my plate. 


Score 3. 5/10: Although the decor and the service were great, the meal was disappointing. The yolk was runny but the rest of the plate lacked enough flavour to make this a decent meal. 

One hit wonder

A year ago I made the fortunate choice to go to Marmadukes Cafe for an end of term brunch. It was in fact here where my palate first understood the pleasures of eggs benedict. Beforehand  I had limited my egg experiences to an over easy egg with a runny yolk, nothing fancy but got the job done. Or if feeling adventures on a Saturday morning some spicy fried egg enjoyed with a serving of agege bread, a Nigerian sweet bread, or yam.

Long story short my mind was completely blown by the balance of the saltiness of the locally sourced smoked ham and the sweet undertones of the hollandaise sauce. My delight was intensified when, like a bride on her wedding day full of excitement and expectation, I cut into the egg yolk and my expectation was indeed rewarded with a golden runny yolk. I left Marmadukes that day elated, that I had been fortunate to experience such culinary craftsmanship.

So months later, when some friends and I were faced with the choice of where to go for brunch,  I fervently vouched for Marmadukes as the place to go to, it was a no-brainer.  I wish not to dwell too long on the situation for till this day, I have never known such disappointment. Upon biting into my well-constructed forkful of egg, yolk, Yorkshire ham, English muffin and of course some Hollandaise sauce. All the butterflies died. The flavours no longer created a perfect harmony a beautiful orchestra, captivating enough to put you in a trance-like state where there was no space to be distracted by small talk. Where the whole table would fall into a unison of “mmms” and “ahhhs”.

It is this disappointment that sparked my search for the best Eggs Benedict in Sheffield.


Score 6/10: Not always consistent but when they get it right, they get it RIGHT. So I suggest you take a gamble. Like they say, what is life if not a gamble?!


Food is an art that few master, many become competent in and too many delve into being ill equipped. 

The art of a perfect eggs benedict requires perfect timing, careful whisking and a right combination of seasonal undertones to uplift the long honoured hollandaise sauce. 

I set upon a quest, a kin to that of the knights of the round table, to discover the holy grail of eggs benedict amongst the hill tops of Sheffield. 

So follow me as I transport you from the mediocre to the magnificent, in a journey that shall at the very least leave you salivating for a wonderful eggs benedict during your next Saturday brunch with friends. Or who knows you may choose to don the sword of excalibur, and prepare this tantalising delicacy yourself.