It was a weekend for brunches, and on Sunday, for a change, to Simply Paris, also in Cuba Street. They catered a book launch when Stephanie de Montalk published her novel, that’s how I first discovered them, and the food was stunningly good. So I pop in from time to time, but very infrequently. It’s an odd thing, perhaps, but in NZ Italian food seems to be the vogue cuisine … a couple of years ago I carried out a linguistic landscape research project, which entails looking at the public signs in a defined area, and was surprised to find that (the word ‘café’ aside) it was Italian rather than French cuisine that was being referenced in the food business signs … I think perhaps it may relate to our coffee culture … latte sounds so much more sophisticated than café au lait … that’s sort of old hat, vaguely redolent of a skin forming as the drink cools. But, that aside, Simply Paris was busy on Sunday … the morning after the All Blacks vs France game. In the French team’s honour, a life-sized chocolate rooster resplendent on the counter. And I had a simple breakfast, toasted baguette with jam & butter, and a croissant, the largest I’ve EVER seen. The others both had eggs and, full marks, the yolks of the poached eggs actually ran. Flowed golden & delicious when cut. Unlike the eggs yesterday at Caffe Italiano. And unlike the Govett Brewster café in New Plymouth. Such a simple thing, but getting it right makes a big difference to eating enjoyment.