Forget about water parks, temples, shops and monuments; nothing gets my family going like a breakfast buffet.
And the more lavish and gaudy over the top, the better.
Towering displays of mini pastries and muffins dotted with decorative strawberries. Meters of beautifully fanned out and segmented fruit. Polished silver domes promise full English. Juices lined up like a vitamin rainbow.
We have a regular routine. Book a table first – outside, shade, no sun.
Then we complete a full circuit without a plate. We examine each exhibit space—the egg cooks, waffle stations, yogurts, birches, and the inevitable Scandi zone of salmon and caper berries—and plan our attack. My youngest son, Sandy, ten, ends up at the pancake shop.
Jane Fryer (not pictured) writes a hymn to the breakfast buffet, complete with her family’s clever strategy for savoring every bit of this holiday ritual
Freddy, 12, could head out into the Orient with spicy noodles and spring rolls. My husband and I usually start with a plain plate of fruit and then go crazy.
Long ago, when we were still amateurs, we took everything in one go. Loosely scrambled eggs oozing into waffles with maple syrup. Sushi and yogurt share a plate with a Danish pastry.
Now, like finely crafted army snipers, we conduct endless solo missions from our family headquarters. And we’ve set personal bests – Sandy currently holds the family record of 12 visits in one go – providing fond memories to carry us through the dark winter months.
The first step of Jane’s breakfast buffet routine is reserving a table outside in the shade
After a good hour of selecting, stacking, eating and admiring each other’s choices, our work is done.
Of course we leave with bags full of nuts, nectarines, yogurt, pastries and, one day, a salmon sandwich.
Because after all, we need something for lunch.
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