Consecrated, shy Saturday rays.


There’s just something about stuff on toast. Sometimes, it’s not just about the smushing together of peanut butter and jam. Oftentimes, a more savoury and nourishing hat rattles the old engines and breathes life into mornings. So easy you feel guilty. But guilty at pleasure’s stake.

roasted grapes with ricotta on grilled sourdough


baked eggs in baked beans


A fork affair. Moist avocado ‘crumbs’ and the warm tang of fresh, halfway-there compote.

smashed avocado and raspberry compote on dark rye


chia infused banana bread

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I’m excited.

For what?

For the possibilities this world holds when it come to breakfast. The sacred routine of waking up, pondering a little, hovering a little, before either following a set recipe, or perhaps just mixing unexpected ingredients together, just for the sake of amateur experimentation, laden with a golden hope.

Ready to learn.

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