Brunch of Champions

Brunch of Champions

A Scarfie café guide

Good morning! It’s Sunday, the best day of the week. The sun shines brighter on Sundays - the birds tweet a little louder. Po-tee-weet! Can you hear them over the pounding in your head and the snoring of the cretin you went home with last night? Sure, smother the incoming phone call you receive from your flatmate under a pillow; your bedmate is going to wake up and look at you cowlishly anyway.

“Brunch? Oh of course, I almost forgot!"

It’s 9:30am- and you have just been saved by Brunch. Use this excuse to carry you through that awkward conversation in which you dodge committing to ever seeing them again. Attack the walk home with a healthy balance between dazed and determined to go unseen. Jump in the shower (you deserve it!). Choose your largest sunglasses and let’s Brunch!

Kiki Beware:

Didn’t get your fill of wearing black last night? If the only mystery left in your identity is where Saturday’s bruises came from, head to Kiki. This little gem is for all the long black drinkers and ‘social’ cigarette smokers. Don’t think about bringing your raucous squad here, the tables are set up specifically for a tête-à-tête with a close confidant. You can recover your inner mystique, abandoned around the time you fell executing an over-enthusiastic nostalgia krump on the dance floor. Wear your longest, blackest, least form-fitting coat (or don’t, your life is your pop-up gallery, I can’t say what artworks to hang in it). Take your most poetic friend. Stare at the stylised tarot cards on the wall and think pensively of the future, when undoubtedly you will be running digital macramé poetry classes in Paris (of course not, I’m not putting you in a box with anyone, you walk your own path). But look - that girl over there - she’s better dressed than you, isn’t she? I bet her life is far more interesting too.


First, ask yourself if you haven’t gone on a few too many Tinder dates here recently. If not, consider if your life goal is to have a greased moustache and/or thick rimmed glasses. Yes? You will feel right at home! Need to make up for that alcohol-fueled vegetarian hiatus that occurred in McDonalds last night? You will be pleased to hear Modaks is a haven for those with extra dietary requirements. Many of us have dietary requirements exclusively on Sunday mornings. If you feel as though paleo chocolate cake (gluten, dairy, sugar free) would, despite its profound nutrition, reappear on the formica tabletop, that’s okay (my friend Bianca launched into a particularly graphic description of Toby’s talents, we know it was her fault). To avoid such a scene, embrace the easy-on-the-stomach fluid meal in a way you haven’t since you were an infant. I suggest ordering a ginger beer, a giant smoothie and a cup of coffee the size of your head (not a suitable fluid meal for infants). And maybe tell Bianca you already know all about Toby’s skills from Steph.


Are you kidding me? Don’t choose places actually within your budget! McDonalds is strictly for the hours between 2 and 4 am where you can scab off someone’s 20 pack of chicken nuggets for the road. McDonalds is a nightmare you shouldn’t allow to come back and haunt you in the morning, if you can help it. You’re better than that, darling.

The Good Oil:

If your parents are visiting from Auckland, challenge yourself to see just how large a bill you can rack up at The Good Oil as they attempt to describe the exact shade of beige they are repainting the kitchen with. They might be concerned about your horrendous appetite, but on the upside, the mood lighting will conceal your bloodshot eyes. You’ve earned that meal; it's hard work to commandeer a whole flat clean so your parents won’t see that their precious baby is living in a certified hovel. Order the salmon bene, add as many extras as you can muster, and relish the thought of the half-ass toilet cleaning job you are going to do next time Mr. and Mrs. Little pop down to see your flatmate Jo.


Did you do something so bad that the only way to forget is to carry your wounded soul deep, deep into a crevasse of a cream, custard, sugar and yogurt within a mountain of thick, doughy pancakes? Do you think it will be safe in there? You can hear your friends talking, but the sound is muffled through thick layers of embarrassment, so maybe if you put a slightly bigger piece in your mouth they will get the hint - you don’t want to talk about it. Here comes the laughter again - and again, so mockingly far from humour. It is like sunshine on the day of a death. Hush, this too will pass. Lift a hunk of that carbohydrate, that fat, that delicious deliciousness from the plate. Rub it on your reddened cheeks, soak up the tears. Lay down on the plate. You are the pancake, sweet thing, and your friends have come to eat you for Brunch.

The Good Earth:

Were you- were you even out last night? Like seriously, this is supposed to be a piece of writing where we all get to bond over our shared culture of unhealthy binge drinking and poor decisions. The Good Earth is where people who used to frequent Modaks go now that they have decided that after all it is cool to have good personal hygiene. This is where they are go once they have fought the battle of cognitive dissonance - substance abuse vs clean living - and lost.  This is where the disbanded punk band sits down with their babies, and use cute names for weed as they discuss the old days. This is where lapsed socialists come to say "well yes, I definitely agree people should be allowed to do what they want in their own homes, but…”, over $5 fair-trade coffee. Honestly, get out. Get out before they catch you.

Good luck choosing your perfect Brunch spot. Ensure you check before setting out with your companions that none of them have hooked up with any of the staff members. Or, if you feel like an adventure, make sure someone has. Just know, as the gossip runs dry and you and your friends get as close to the foetal position as possible while sitting upright, that this is an important part of the growing up process. Where you choose to Brunch is a deeply personal reflection of your character. Is Bianca asleep on the table? Wake up, you knob, it’s time to go. Brunch brings us together. Brunch helps us bond and share our stresses. As you slip on ice leaving the cafe, listen to the birds singing po-tee-weet, and don’t forget to give thanks for the small things. You live in a first world country where fresh food is readily available. There are people up early enough on a Sunday to make you a delicious meal. This time, your card didn’t decline. 

This article first appeared in Issue 22, 2016.
Posted 11:36am Sunday 4th September 2016 by Mel Ansell.