This is a scathing review I had been meaning to write for a long time, after having sampled quite possibly the worst iteration of a healthy breakfast option I hadn’t had time to make for myself one fateful morning… during my penultimate week of working at the New Statesman this March.
“Why would you ever eat porridge… made at a coffee chain, you say?” Because I had no choice… I overslept and had no time to have breakfast, or I’d risk missing my train to Paddington and end up late for work… so I had to commute on an empty stomach and eat something filling to fuel a morning of cool journalist stuff…(muffins for breakfast just aren’t what they used to be…) and Maple syrup is tasty… or so I thought when I ordered it at Paddington’s Starbucks!
The label read “maple and honey sauce.” I should have changed my order for a buttery mushroom and cheese croissant there and then. MAPLE AND HONEY SAUCE?!@#$ Anyway. I opened the cardboard pot and looked down at the stodgy clump of oats I had been sold and decided to give it a second chance by stirring it… I felt my heart sink.
NB. Breakfast is a meal I go to bed dreaming about… and low blood sugar really does not help when it comes to setbacks pertaining to food. It’s a deadly combo of hunger and anger… I call this being HANGRY. This presents itself on my face and in my demeanour for the following hour… best used (strictly in my mental monologue) in the phrase You wouldn’t like me when I’m HANGRY!! I turn quiet and glower on the outside… inside my head burst fiery tirades of profanity, and the opening sentences for a blog post…
Out of sheer desperation, I decided to man-up and take a spoon of the oaty clump once I had added the maple and honey sham of a syrup from the tiny plastic pot in which it was packaged.
Normal maple or golden syrup falls in an undulating amber stream… bringing a childish grin to my face as I write my name or draw out a pattern over the surface of my breakfast bowl… Starbucks’ porridge topping fell in the most puzzling manner I can only liken to Mr Muscle Sink and Drain Unblocker. Like a liquid but it falls in gelatinous clots. This “thing” plopped on the already clumpy surface of the porridge.
Sighing, I took a spoon in my mouth, and had to swallow it for the sake of being around polite professionals… I shall spare you the detailed description and fast forward to the bit where I threw it in the bin and boarded the Bakerloo line train; bleary eyed and bloody disappointed with my stupid breakfast choice. I bought myself a nice coffee from the cafe below the building and sailed through the morning of review writing on a caffeine high… which very quickly turned into a low after 90 minutes… then the only thing I could think about was my awesome packed lunch… WHICH I ATE AT 11 AM… and ceased glowering.
No number can express my thoughts (emotions still run high) so instead, I shall use the french word: AFFREUX! As it’s aggressive enough to put across my warning to any of you that decide to order porridge at a cafe… for whatever reason…JUST DON’T DO IT! NO! EAT THAT MUFFIN… OR CROISSANT… OR PASTRY WHIRL THING…