The Breakfast Club, Spitalfields: Fun Brunches in East London
The ‘children of the 80s’ owners loved The Breakfast Club high-school film so much they named their chain of cafes and restaurants after it. I grew up in the same era but I wonder if people born after will just take the name literally.
The entrance to the Breakfast Club Spitalfields is hard to find and they admit this on the website as if it’s by design only I’m not sure why you’d make it hard to find a fun-filled dining spot near Liverpool Street.
Regardless, from the minute you enter, in my case on a busy Tuesday lunchtime, it feels like a good place to be. People are queuing be seated, tick box for popularity. People have booked, again, tick box for popularity. I confess to just turning up to meet an old friend with no booking. ‘Don’t worry,’ says the accommodating waitress: ‘a couple are just paying up now so it won’t be long.’
You don't name a chain of all-day cafes after an 80s cult classic and not nod to it in as many ways as possible. So, lots of school-style decor: tables are old and scratched, booths are old-school chicken-wire style high-backed benches, an entire wall has children’s drawings pinned to it, and colourful neon signs (think Tom Cruise in Cocktail, another film of the same era). Smurf wallpaper lining the toilet walls shows the owners take their retro-fun theme seriously enough not to ignore even this small space.
I sit at a table watching other people tuck into stacks of waffles while I wait for my friend. Waiting staff are all smiles and just as she arrives they ask if we’d like a booth. We like, and proceed to ooh and aah over a menu that’s full of puns and appealing sounding English and American breakfast and brunch favourites.
I’m not vegan, but I wanted to see how satisfying the Full Vegan was. And boy, was it ever. A large oval plate filled with turmeric-yellow scrambled tofu, a patty of bubble and squeak, smoky refried beans offset by slightly bitter southern greens with a slice of dark toasted rye bread with avocado (it’s mushed and thankfully not billed as the overused expression: ‘crushed avocado’) and a sprinkling of sunflower seeds, £11. My only complaint is the bread was cold, other than that I loved it. Less greedy than me, my friend Amanda ordered the pun-tactic When Halloumi Met Salad wrap which combines grilled cheese, sweet sun-blushed tomatoes, earthy hummus, sharp spinach and a sticky balsamic glaze, £9. If you haven’t embraced plant-based fry ups and are more 80s than the decor, there’s a Cabbies Breakfast of bacon, sausage, eggs, chips, beans, tomato and fried bread for a bargain £7.50.
On the way home, I look the venue up online and find why the door might be so hard to find. Inside the restaurant, a large Smeg fridge I naively presumed to hold drinks, conceals a secret speakeasy bar. Diners in-the-know ask to see the Mayor and are invited to step through the fridge door into a dimly lit cocktail bar for boozy brunches. The bar only has one rule: never leave through the fridge door. That sounds just like a line from an 80s film, if not it should be.
*The Breakfast Club, Spitalfields. Greater Anglia runs regular services to London Liverpool Street. Adult single fares from £5, children travel for £2 with an adult and under fives travel for free. Tickets can be bought online from Greater Anglia or via the Greater Anglia app.