The Travel Critic

Gen Z’s are famous for their desire for instant gratification—except, it seems, when it comes to queuing outside the latest Instagram restaurant. Unlike most of them, I can make a plan and stick to it. So, instead of standing in the rain with the hopeful hordes, I booked a table. Yes, it’s called being an adult. Try it sometime.

And do you know what? It’s rather good.

I’ve long believed there’s an inverse relationship between the fanciness of a venue and the quality of its breakfast. Five-star hotels? Gorgeous armchairs, soft piano music wafting through the lobby, and some pretentious chef delivering eggs with unidentifiable green nonsense sprinkled on top. A greasy spoon? Life-changing fry-up, but your dining companions are likely to include a pro-Brexit builder and someone muttering to themselves in the corner.

The Breakfast Club, however, is that rarest of finds: the middle ground. The décor is peak trendy—neon signs on the walls, mismatched chairs that are probably “upcycled” rather than actually comfortable—but the food is undeniably great. Think perfectly crisped bacon, eggs cooked just the way you like them, and pancakes that would make you briefly consider a life of American excess.

The service is sharp, efficient, and almost unnervingly cheery given how busy it is. This place knows what it’s doing, and it does it well.

But here’s the key takeaway: book it. Do not stand in the rain for an hour like some desperate intern hoping to secure a seat at the Cool Kids’ Table. You’re better than that. Or at least, you should be.