It’s not that I don’t like eating breakfast out. I’m all up for some churros now and then, a warm cup of coffee on a chilly January morning, and even a shot of anis after breakfast on a Sunday, but how Sevillanos, and some guiris, have breakfast out every morning is beyond me.
When I was in my late teens growing up in London, I’d normally meet mates for a fry up to sooth a nasty hangover at the weekend. I used to love the occasion; chatting about the shenanigans of the previous night and normally trying to remember what had happened. It was fun, but I couldn’t do it every morning.
A few things bug me about having breakfast out in Seville. Firstly, the noise; it’s never quiet in a café. I’ve grown to hate the sound of smashing china plates, and knives and forks splattering in the tray. Waiters shouting orders does my head in too. Sometimes the volume of locals speaking is so loud that you can’t hear the person in front talking. If I’m not properly awake when I go in the café, I sure am when I leave. Continue reading “How can you have breakfast out every morning?”