An Unexpected Irish Breakfast at the Druid

I used to take myself out for restaurant meals more often. That was before the economy crashed and I started "tightening my belt," as the saying goes. But on Saturday I found myself killing time in Inman Square between touring Taza chocolate factory and waiting for my bike to be repaired at Broadway Bikes. It was cold outside, and I wanted something savory and hearty. First I thought of Olecito for tacos, but I wanted to sit down at an actual table and have the option to linger.

That was when I noticed the chalkboard advertising a full Irish breakfast outside the Druid on Cambridge St. I'd passed this bar often in the evenings, but it had always been too crowded to go in. Now it was dimly lit and nearly empty around noon on a Saturday. A few older guys drank early beers at the bar. And the legitimately Irish bartender offered me a table of my own.

I asked for the Irish breakfast sans black and white puddings (not a fan). It came with two eggs over medium, just as I'd specified, baked beans (they're hidden under the eggs in the photo), Irish sausage, Irish bacon, roasted tomatoes, potatoes, and white toast with little tinfoil packets of butter. For a second I felt like I was back in the UK, treating myself to breakfast as I used to do on weekend mornings during a stint teaching at an international school in London. It was very decadent. I sat there for a good long time, reading my paper, sipping my coffee, and taking perfect bites that combined at least two if not three items of the items on the plate.

This is the joy of an Irish breakfast--putting a bit of egg on a piece of toast you've skated around in the beans and perhaps mopped in the juice from the tomato. If you can add a small piece of Irish bacon too, all the better.