Are you like your parents? Momma T may be a fair, tiny little thing who I tower over, but I’ve always thought we were alike in most other ways – except for food.
While she’s like me and has a sweet tooth, the woman likes her bacon. So, I was a little surprised recently when we sat down to breakfast at Anouk, and the cheeky little thing ordered the same thing I did – Croissant French Toast.
Wait, do I need to stop for a second, so you can process that sentence? Yes. That’s french toast, made with a croissant. Arteries be damned. You cannot turn away from such a genius dish.
Anyway, I was kind of annoyed she’d ordered the same thing, because I wanted to try one of Anouk’s other cool-sounding breakfast dishes – like the Croque Monsiuer I saw at another table, or the stuffed mushrooms someone else was digging into, or even the savoury beignets.
We started with coffees (capps for both of us, of course), which were unfortunately pretty bad. Not the worst coffee I’ve ever had, but pretty bitter and not very frothy.
Service, luckily, made up for the sub-par coffee: it was friendly, swift, and very professional – hard to do when Anouk gets as busy as it does! A tip: we arrived just after 8am, and there were plenty of tables. You snooze, you lose.
We sat inside, which was a little bit noisy – next time I’d love to snag one of the sidewalk tables for some people-watching. Still, the interior of Anouk is cosy and welcoming.
Once our meals came out I was secretly relieved to see that they didn’t look too disgustingly rich. The serve was generous, but not ridiculous, giving me the idea that I could definitely finish it off.
As I got halfway through the soft, warm croissant, making sure to top each bite with a little bit of the mascarpone cream, I started to have second thoughts. It might not have been as rich as it sounds – and the rhubarb cut through the heaviness of the dish – but a croissant is still a croissant. And a croissant that’s been dipped in batter and lightly fried sits pretty heavy in the stomach.
I left a quarter on my plate and was totally stuffed, but not feeling gross: success. Meanwhile, Momma T was happily cleaning her plate. Some of us can hoover dessert for breakfast and stay a size 6, it seems.
I’ve heard many people claim that Anouk does the best breakfast in Brisbane. I can’t say I agree (Simpatico for me is the best), but they’re making some damn fine, inventive, unique dishes.
As for Momma T and me? Well, it seems that now food has been added to the list, we’re even closer to being alike in every way: except for our metabolisms.
212 Given Tce