The Christmas Breakfast Challenge

People eat some weird shit at Christmas. I'm on board with this. For me it's pretty much obligatory to neck peanuts and sausage rolls whenever I pass the kitchen from 1st December onwards. I draw the line at breakfast though: my breakfast tends to be fruit, a green smoothie or an omelette whatever the time of year, but it turns out that some people have some very special Christmas breakfast traditions.

With this in mind, I asked Facebook, various Whatsapp chat groups and confused people on the street for their favourite family Christmas Day breakfasts, immediately discounted anything nice or normal (goodbye smoked salmon and scrambled eggs, farewell croissants), leaving me with a variety of indigestible lard and sugar based options. Bravely, IO decided to try one every morning for a week. I got in training (went for a run which I cut short after 4 miles because it was cold), steel plated my stomach and ventured forth:


DAY 1:
Egg beat up in a cup

I started with the least offensive breakfast of the lot so as to warm up slowly. This, according to my friend Tammy, is an Irish/Northern Irish comfort food that comes out when you're ill, under the weather, happy, miserable, or celebrating something. It's also a Christmas breakfast classic over there.

Method: Boil an egg or two, remove the shells and beat up in a cup with salt, pepper and enough butter to turn it into an egg mayo consistency (but with butter, not mayonnaise). Eat with toast soldiers.

Verdict: This was nice, even though I could feel my arteries clogging with every swallow.

Suitable for breakfast every day? Yes

Rating: 8/10


DAY 2:
A box of cheap liqueur chocolates - the sort you can get in Poundland

This was my friend Fogg's contribution. He is, in retrospect, a dick.

Method: Open chocolates. Eat them.

Verdict: Of all the things you don't want to face shoving down your throat at 7am, these must come somewhere near the top. Three chocolates in I had heartburn and my throat was involuntarily closing to stop me from swallowing. I forced the rest down, ignoring the burning sensation in my esophagus then dropped my child at school stinking of booze.

Suitable for breakfast every day? Shudder.

Rating: 2/10


DAY 3:
Scotch Woodcock

 

Some bloke I got talking to at the doctors has had this every Christmas morning for the last 40 years. 

Method: It's basically scrambled egg on toast, but the toast is spread with anchovy paste, known as Gentleman's Relish. I do not want anything called Gentleman's Relish anywhere near my person frankly, but I gave it a go anyway.

Verdict: Well, that tasted like fishy eggs.

Suitable for breakfast every day? In theory, although it's a bit tricky to get past your gag reflex at half past bastard in the morning.

Rating: 4/10 

DAY 4:

Tinned hotdog sausages in a soft finger roll in front of Thomas the Tank Engine

 

Thanks to Mel for this one. She's @SuspiciousQuiet on Twitter if anyone wants to follow her adventures.

Method: I wasn't sure how essential Thomas the Tank Engine was to the process but I put it on anyway so as to show willing. I did find it helped to shout "COME ON MOTHERFUCKERS, COME ON" throughout a la the Biggie Smalls version. I added mustard and ketchup to the hotdog because why wouldn't you?

Verdict: Felt v rebellious eating hotdog at 7.30am. Living the thug life.

Suitable for breakfast every day? Why not? Thomas can do one though.

Rating: 6/10

DAY 5:

Trifle. Glass of orange juice "for health".

I can't even remember whose this was but may they burn in Hell.

Method: Deposit trifle into a bowl, pour orange juice, hold nose and eat.

Verdict: I think I OD'd on trifle as a child because I can't stomach it now; the spongy stuff in the strawberry jelly makes me squeamish. Trying to force it down at 6.45 in the morning followed by orange juice (which sits beautifully with all the cream in your stomach) was not enjoyable. 

Suitable for breakfast every day? Maybe if you like trifle?  I reckon I could manage this if substituted with tiramisu.

Rating: 3/10

DAY 6:

Pork pie and a glass of port (With mustard and bread in some households):

My ex housemate Rach was force fed pork pie and port every Christmas morning by her dad, which she says may go some way to explaining why she's vegetarian now. Another friend insists that the pork pie has to be eaten without the port but with mustard and bread. I combined both because nobody intervened and told me not to. I kind of wish they had.

 

Method: Put pork pie and optional bread on plate. Pour nice glass of port.

 Verdict: I don't know whether it's just because I'd spent most of the week introducing my stomach to some of the worst food in the world at the crack of dawn, but pork pie was a winner. I troughed my way through that big meaty bastard at the speed of light. Not so the port: nearly puked. Made the school run more fun though.

Suitable for breakfast every day? Pork pie is a possibility, port is not.

Verdict: 7.5/10

DAY 7:

Mince pie and brandy butter sandwich

YOU ANIMALS.

Method: Spread thick layer of brandy butter on bread. Squash a mince pie and sandwich it between two slices. Eat.

Verdict: Mince pies are evidence of the devil's existence in my opinion, but I tried anyway. Oh how I tried. I managed one mouthful before propelling it across the room in some sort of retch/spit hybrid. To the person who told me to try this: may your next turd be a hedgehog.

Suitable for breakfast every day? Piss off.

Verdict: 1/10

 

I limped to this finish line feeling like the Very Hungry Caterpillar when he'd eaten everything. Maybe a few fresh green leaves for breakfast tomorrow will make me feel better. It can't be worse than this lot anyway.