Breakfast and a breakdown at The Botanist, Sloane Square

I always get the heebie-jeebies whenever I venture into Sloane Square (which isn't often to be honest) and before you ask, it's got nothing to do with a fear of running into the likes of Spencer Matthew or any of his excerebrose* skinny red trouser wearing ilk. It's to do with the memory of going to see Sarah Kane's Blasted at The Royal Court Theatre when I was younger and a bit more cultcha'd than I am today. After watching the controversial play, I distinctly remember walking into the nearest pub with friends afterwards, all of us silent. Having stepped up to the mahogany bar, the Australian behind cheerfully asked me what I would like and I barked back - "Give me the strongest f*cking thing you've got!" - before shuffling off into a quiet corner to contemplate and weep upon what I had just witnessed.

The funny thing is that I am sure the pub was situated exactly where The Botanist stands today. So after wandering in there this morning to partake in a breakfast tweet-up, when I started to read the menu, the flashbacks came on quite strong.

"Hmm smokey porky bacon (Oh my God! The buggery!)"

"Ooooh eggs benedict! (His eyes! He is gouging his eyes out!)"

"The Botanist's Infamous Bloody Mary (Blood! So......so, so much blood!)"

Which is not what one wants to be going through when one is breaking their fast at 8AM, I can tell you that right now. Thankfully they do do a mean flat white in there, so after a slurp or two, I was able to sort myself out and get on with the business of instagramming a plate of fruit. Which now makes me think that my 'problem' isn't with Sloane Square but with caffeine. Which I must look into at some point.

BUT ANYWAY! Breakfast at The Botanist was indeed very good today. Not only did it cover all the nutritional requirements needed to start the day i.e. vitamin C, monounsaturated fat, complex proteins, alcohol (etc), it was all pretty damn fine to eat. Although I have to say, their infamous Bloody Mary did deliver a spicy thwack to the back of the throat and was a lot more pokier that I am used to. It was very off putting at first actually. However, by the time I got to the bottom of the glass I was laughing.

Highlights in particular, should you wish to repast there for breakfast, were the sweetcorn fritters with avocado. These crispy nuggets, loaded with nuggets of golden corn, married up perfectly with the soft yet spiky green salsa served alongside. They really were gorgeous Thane. And the blueberry buttermilk pancakes with streaky smoked bacon and maple syrup were lovely too and reminded me that the Yanks do know a thing or two about brekkie don't they. Whenever I've eaten them in the past, in the back of my mind, it always feels like none of it should work but it really is a beautiful combination you know. Pancakes, syrup, bacon, blimey.

The one low point was probably losing out on winning a bottle of wine (for best tweet) to a pregnant lady who can't touch a drop until July at the very earliest. But hey, I got a free breakfast in exchange for some manic tweeting so I am not bitter. Well, not much anyway.

Would I return back to The Botanist for an evening session? I have to say that the menu does look very good and I do like the sound of the Peterhead cod fillet, king prawn risotto and crisp squid. This isn't a nudge by the way, you cynical bar stewards. I would happily pay for a meal in this sexy establishment. I might even put on a pair of red trousers and bouffe my hair up for the occasion.

I do need to get over that fear though. Of horrors engraved, of visions that still linger from the past, of that damn play. I'll shall see my doctor tomorrow. Or maybe I should see my shrink instead.

Disclaimer: I was, if you haven't already guessed, a guest of The Botanist, eating breakfast in praise of Breakfast Week.