The one

I remember it as clear as day, we had gathered at Bills in Sheffield for a friends birthday brunch. I was just looking forward to hanging with the girls. When the menu arrived I was torn between pancakes with an assortment of seasonal fruit or Eggs Benedict. The promise of the perfect Eggs Benedict twisted my arm into ordering, but my uncertainty led me to split it with a friend who had ordered pancakes. You could call it the best of both worlds.

When the plate arrived the crispy bacon on sight already raised my hopes, for it did a lot more for me than the thick slabs of crisp-less bacon I had often received in other establishments. And when I tucked into the bacon and egg combo. I was indeed not disappointed. The bacon, runny egg yolk, flavour filled hollandaise and the slice of English muffin led me to places I had not expected when I arrived an hour earlier.  The flavours and textures were a marriage made in heaven! I was saddened to have to swap my plate half way through. So I savoured the last bite and begrudgingly gave it away. At least the pancakes I swapped for were good, but nowhere near close to the Eggs Benedict or to the pancakes I’ve savoured through my travels in the US (but that’s another series).

Although I didn’t get to eat at all the places in Sheffield offering Eggs Benedict, out of the ones that I did go to this was one of the best. And by a pinch, mainly in terms of the good portion sizes I have to conclude that it gets a ranking above that of craft and dough.

What’s next for the egg chronicles?
I will be throwing my hat in the ring and trying to see what I can come up with – so do watch out for a recipe. I will also continue to be going to the best brunch spots to see which place might , if any at all, dethrone Bill’s.

Forr now in terms of all things Eggs Benedict it’s time to split and go our separate ways, but remember to stay runny!


Score 8/10: An unexpected delight!

Fighting the roots

Let’s talk about hair.

Let’s analyse, diagnose and remedy hair.

Not just any hair though, black hair.

Something too long thought of as a curse,

a disease of sorts to be remedied.

By the heat of the hot comb

or the burning inferno of the relaxer,

left a few minutes too long

to guarantee that silky straight hair.

Whilst you are quick to play

with your cured hair,

you avoid touching your scalp

damaged by the chemical cocktail.

You are left with a minefield of scabs,

from the chemical burn,

to remind you of the suffering that awaits

when your hair will revert to its natural form

and the whole process is repeated.

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?!