For most of my childhood, I was never a fan of breakfast. I was never hungry, it was always rushed, and I was often forced to eat fried eggs despite hating them from birth. While of course bacon is a truly wonderful and blessed thing, there never seemed to be enough.
But then I moved to spain, and was introduced to the perfect breakfast. Simple, savoury, and delicious. A toasted piece of bread, jamon serrano, fresh tomato pulp, olive oil and salt. The simplicity means quality of ingredients is essential, and now that i’m on South Beach and off white bread for a few weeks, I thought I’d take myself on a trip down memory lane, and indulge in a little Saturday morning gastroporn.