Beauty and the Beige: Finding Home in a Cafe Breakfast
A big part of moving to a new place is getting to know the food – but what if that food is all one slightly odd shade of off-yellow? Ema Smekalova shares the story of their burgeoning friendship with beige food
Dismay, misunderstanding, mild horror – these are words that could describe my initial encounters with the cuisine known as ‘beige food’. In my first-year university accommodation, I watched my flatmate drown a sad-looking piece of toast in baked beans. On another occasion, they were adorning a baking dish with gooey batter and sausages (what you call toad in the hole). We do have beige food in the Czech Republic, but it is not usually named after amphibians. Perhaps on some level, British beige food symbolised my feelings of alienness upon moving to a new country. It was somehow easier to displace my culture shock onto a Yorkshire pudding than to process the absence of home comforts.
I discovered Snax Cafe on Buccleuch Street during my first revision season, driven inside by Edinburgh’s gale-force winds and an empty stomach. Confronted by the smells and sounds of my former culinary adversary, I faced the menu board. The words shifted and shuffled like an optical illusion, gradually revealing a hidden message: 'beige = okay, beige = safe, beige = comfort'. Admittedly, that could have just been a side-effect of study-induced sleep deprivation, but the point stands. Suddenly I saw beige food in a new light: the fluorescent light of Snax Cafe. In that fateful moment, I opted for a breakfast roll with a tattie scone, a slice of haggis, and a fried egg.
The aforementioned haggis, tattie scone and fried egg roll. Photo: Ema Smekalova
It was only retrospectively that I realised the power of food to create a sense of home. That incidental stop-off for a morning roll on a dreary day ended up being repeated, again and again, for years after. The consumption of what I once considered foreign, frightening, or beige, allowed me to become more accustomed to – or even happy in – the UK. My fragile sense of national identity did not call out for knedlíky anymore. Instead, I sought out the most quintessentially British dispensaries of beige food out there. I learned the language of ordering chips. I found a home.
The quaint, poster-covered Quick & Plenty has stood its ground on Leven Street for over a hundred years. Within the brutal and ever-changing context of gentrification in Edinburgh, its existence is a miracle. Though simply furnished, the interior is full of character and warmth, attracting a diverse clientele who are just after some honest fare. Their extensive menu boasts a tempting (and always affordable) selection, ranging from Scottish breakfast staples to their delicious paneer curry or crispy channa. It’s safe to say that the Plenty on offer renders the decision-making process anything but Quick.
Establishments like Snax and Quick & Plenty are so integral to the city because they represent a space where everyone can feel at home. They offer an authenticity untouched by corporate pomposity, sheltering us from the harshness of both daily life and the weather, even if just for a moment. Food is approached straightforwardly here; there are no frills, no edible flowers, just delicious food made with the intent to bring sustenance and contentment. Caffs are the community’s living room and the vanguards of beige, so pay your favourite one a visit.
Snax Cafe, 118 Buccleuch St, Edinburgh, Mon-Sun, 7.30am-3pm; Quick & Plenty, 27 Leven St, Edinburgh, Mon-Sun, 9am-4pm
Ema Smekalova is a writer from Prague, based in Edinburgh
This article is from issue one of GNAW, our new food and drink magazine dedicated to sharing stories from across Scotland’s food scene. Pick up a free copy from venues across Scotland, and follow GNAW on Instagram @gnawmag