Brendan's Café and the price of a pea shoot.

Most of the time I just want to have a simple sandwich for breakfast. I’ve found in my later years I’ve tired of glamorous brunch dishes such as your eggs benedict, served incorrectly with split hollandaise and pickled onion, or French toast garnished with honeycomb and mascarpone.
I’m also weary of dropping €15 on a plate of food where I have a limited time to eat it and get out. 

Don't get me wrong I get it, it's getting more and more difficult to make money as a small business. I’ve seen myself in the restaurant I work in the effect the VAT increase has had on our revenue, matched with the rising prices of electricity and staff costs, suppliers, and rent, I get why chefs are slapping on some pea shoots as garnish and charging an extra fiver for the dish (no shade).
So when somewhere like Brendan's café can remain open for over 30 years through life's economic and social challenges, and somehow avoid dolloping some pickles onto your plate and charging you through the nose for it, you know it's a fairly special place.
When you find somewhere like this in Dublin - an ordinary restaurant, old, that operates without fanfare, and just does the same stuff it always has, cooking simple meals, making customers feel welcome and giving people somewhere to sit down for a while, you know it's special.
Brendan’s is a functional café, designed for feeding the working people of Smithfield. Located facing the old fruit and veg market, an area that's a hive of commercial activity in the early AM with tall rust coloured buildings and worn cobblestones. A hum of forklifts echo in my ear as I approach the breakfast café in the early hours of a Wednesday morning.
The first thing that catches my eye with Brendan’s is the towering pile of Brennan’s batch loafs piled high in the corner, adorned with ladles and pans hanging from the wall above it. A visual so magnificently Irish with its luminous melon coloured packaging. 

Next thing you’ll notice is the large electric neon menu, brightly lit up behind the counter listing its humble dishes ‘Egg and Pudding’, ‘Sandwiches / Bacon’ and my personal favourite - ‘Plate of Chips’. A full Irish fry, listed with toast and tea costs no more than a tenner.
Its at the counter where the handful of staff congregate, assembling your ‘sausage sandwich with ketchup’, or pouring you your ‘mug of coffee’.
The only person who quietly stays put most of the time is Brendan himself, who oversees the whole operation. Once in a while, he may simply lean over the counter and ask you how your food is, nod and get back to work.
The customers who populate the room are largely clusters of older men and women with grey hair, drinking tea alone and chatting together, using the space like a pub. All with about as much enthusiasm for a pea shoot as myself. The whole spectacle reminds me of that scene from Fleabag, where she launches Chatty Wednesdays in her café for her customers, declaring ‘loneliness pays’.
There is no substitute for somewhere like Brendan’s. Places like this are integral to our understanding of society - a reflection of our ever changing culture and values over the years. 

The whole experience reminded me of my days out in Dublin town with my nan, who always had to count her pennies as we hopped on the bus, but there was always enough for a drink and a shared sandwich. No coffee art, no halloumi addons. A simple menu serving classically simple food. Making me understand all you ever really need is an egg and sausage, and maybe just a bit of good company.