Sundays are ritualistic for me.
It started when I was really small and my aunts would take me to “Hot Breads” for a brunch which consisted solely of breads and cakes. They’d drown theirs in coffee and I’d drown mine in juice…
I remember that the bistro was a new opening in my city and people were yet to be acclimatized to the concept of brunch. Infact, if it weren’t for the fact that all of us were very late risers, we’d never make it for brunch either. We’d gorge on donuts, croissants, the gooeiest cheese pizzas and the classic sandwiches. Also, I remember how Rinky buu had to force all of us to try it out and we’d just call her crazy. Coz for us, it was either Flurys occasionally or nothing at all. I guess, I have her to thank for my gastronomic curiosity.
When I was in college, dad would drop by from Jaipur on the early morning flight and we’d rush straight from the airport to Flurys for their incredible Flurys Mocha and he’d binge on omlettes and toast while I’d work through potato wedges, a croissant sandwich (the perfectly chilled crisp lettuce, tomato and cheese within a moist, flaky croissant is another post onto itself) and a slice of one of their delicious cakes which has the best sugar icing.
For the past year or so, Sunday breakfasts have lost their charm. Its only an occasional brunch in Mumbai or a “leaving on the flight in an hour breakfast with Techie Guy” that have lived up to the traditions of the olden days. And so, when I woke up today, after having spent an hour dreaming and reminiscing of my perfect brunch last Sunday, hankering for fresh bakes…I realized that this was going to be one very sad day. As you already know, my hunger pangs are incredible. If I want a Belgian mocha with the exact amount of whipped cream, then that is exactly what I want. Nothing else really hits home. And so, with such depressing thoughts, I walked into my kitchen fully determined to make myself some doughnuts and muffins. I guess, today wasn’t supposed to be a cooking Sunday. Just as I finished preparing the butter frosting which I’d fill into my doughnuts, and I let the batter rest…dad calls. He’s got me pastries and a Zucotto from Kookie Jar and Cinnabuns from Delhi are on their way home. Would I be willing to delay the Sunday brunch till teatime?
I was very pleasantly surprised. However, I’d made preparations for baking and wasting the batter wasn’t going happen. And so, I ended up spending a delightful afternoon baking cupcakes with a lemon icing and cookies with a coffee cream filling.
And I spent my entire evening gorging on the most decadent nougat slices, cinnabons, mocha biscuits and Moroccan tea. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll make this a ritual too…
P.S. Tall Guy, you’re an idiot of the first order to not know a Kookie Jar Zucotto. You do not deserve to live in my city. 😛
Techie Guy, I owe you all my special breakfasts. 🙂
Everyone else: The reason this post has no picture is because it’s near impossible to find suitable pictures of Flurys’ food online. That in itself is a mute testimony to the fact that people are too busy indulging their palates to really click pics.