Hungover in Edinburgh again. This time it was a full body number as I’d sung too hard (thanks SuperCube) and rocked too hard (and thank you Opium) the night before at friend J-Hi’s hen. Luckily Edinburgh friend Espie knows all the best places. Milk is tiny and bright and fresh inside, without being sterile. The guy is dead friendly, without being weirdsies. The menu is thoughtful and balanced without being off puttingly healthy.
The full breakfast did look a little on the meagre side, although I always feel a bit ill after a full full breakfast, so it would have probably been ok for me. Espie did say the sausage ruled, and was sad there wasn’t two. The eggs looked like my kind of scrambled: creamy, but still with nice big curds. The humungo slice of toast was making eyes at me and I gazed back at it covetously as I ate my own breakfast.
The poached eggs also came on an epic bit of toast, but they looked pretty overcooked to me. Given my feeble physical and mental state at the time I’d have probably cried if I was served a non-runny egg, but J-Hi ate them stoically. Poached eggs are always a gamble, so what you gonna do? I also probably wouldn’t have thanked you for the spinach salad side, but it’s nice to be healthy I guess…
My own choice was bang on though. Chorizo burrito, recommended by the Milk guy. A chewy delicious flatbread (not tortilla), surrounding slices of chorizo, scrambled eggs and comté, with rice and a sort of mayo-less slaw on the side. I love rice for breakfast and these fat little grains felt substantial and wholesome along side the salad. The wrap was stupid yummy and hit the protein/fat/salt hangover requirements. Good coffee too.
We didn’t try any sweet stuff, but Espie says their chocolate orange brownies are the shit, and they also tweet many pictures, including beautiful and unusual cupcakes baked in souffle cups, which I dig.
Milk, 232 Morrison Street, Edinburgh, EH8 8EA