My bacon and egg years

Memories of cooked breakfasts waft down the years to Jay Rayner

The older you get, the more unfashionable your past becomes. Now that I am in my mid-50s, my early memories of childhood breakfasts feel like something which should be viewed if not in black and white, then certainly in those overcooked candy tones that passed for early TV colour. This is because every one of those breakfasts, every day, was also cooked. I would dress, or in the earliest days, be dressed, to the smell of sizzling bacon and frying eggs. Both my parents worked full-time, so in my memory the heavy lifting was done by one of a succession of au pairs, a lovely young woman named Laura from

Turin or Brigitte from Stockholm. God knows what they made of this peculiarly British ritual.

And it really was peculiar. My mother, Claire, had started her career as a nurse. By the time I was born she was already a freelance advice columnist. She had started building the library of academic work which would underpin her knowledge of physical and sexual health. And yet here she was, every damn morning, shovelling the saturated, crispy fats down us because in the early 1970s that was the only proper way to start the day. I loved those bacon and egg breakfasts.

They couldn’t last. One morning, when I was about six or seven, the gas was not lit. The frying pan stayed in the cupboard. Now it was toast and Marmite. And not the nice white toast. It was made from a brick of wholemeal bread, the colour of hessian, from which slices were sawn rather than cut. Something to do with fibre and the gut. Nor was it butter. Claire had read something somewhere about that. Now it had to be Flora. It was better for us, apparently. I don’t doubt it. It just wasn’t as nice. The curious thing is that very quickly we adapted to the new breakfast normal. Life moved on. The bacon and egg years were over. I mourn them still.

local bakery Big River, a social enterprise providing employment access opportunities (thebiscuitfactory.com).

22. Culloden Estate & Spa, Belfast

Whiskey-infused porridge, Ardglass kippers, or a full Irish breakfast served with potato and soda bread in Culloden Estate and Spa’s traditional hotel restaurant will set you up for a brisk walk around the former palace, with views overlooking Belfast Lough (cullodenestateandspa.com).

23. Six, Pier Point, Roker

The best place for breakfast in the whole of Sunderland, according to its fans, Six, Pier Point sits on Roker’s sandy beach. Two sea-swimming groups take a dip year-round before filling up on crab on sourdough or whipped cream cheese on toast (sixpierpoint.co.uk).

24. The Quarter, Liverpool

The much-loved Quarter is beautifully situated between the two cathedrals in Liverpool’s Georgian quarter. Enjoy a mimosa and pancakes with berry compote at one of the outdoor bistro tables on cobbled, historic Falkner Street (thequarteruk.com).

25. Norman’s Café, London N19

The great British caff lives on in Norman’s Café, with a no-frills fry-up and beans on toast with Red Leicester the order of the day in this stylised hipster hang-out (normanscafe.co.uk).

26. Café Lucca, Bath

After a day’s sightseeing, make for the sunny terrace at Bath’s Café Lucca where the Belgian waffles with maple syrup and vegetarian breakfast wrap steal the show (caffelucca.co.uk).

27. Black Dog Deli, Walberswick

Grab one of the few coveted tables in the tiny outdoor terrace at the Black Dog Deli, a breakfast hero in Suffolk’s