Duke's Bru and Que, http://dukesbrewandque.com/

Last Saturday morning I woke up next to a blonde with a pretty eye staring at me. Unfortunately the eye never blinked and was tattooed onto the arm of my male friend who I had spent the early morning hours engaging in various physical and mental challenges. Whilst others in our generation are dancing on a Friday night, drinking WKD and Aftershockz, we were timing each other doing planks in his flat and seeing who could stop a casio watch closest to 30 seconds. So waking up on a rank and rainy Saturday morning after sharing a bed with a man, which he had graced with a lady very recently, and with a hangover which wasn't too bad, given we were both drunk, we decided to check out Dukes Bre and Que.

On arriving we stood on the cusp of 15 tables and waited for someone to pick us up and lead us to some salty variety of pig, but our presence was met with the disinterest I normally reserve for the Metro.  After a few minutes of needily eyeing the collection of waitresses we boldly sat ourselves down, a move akin to the awkwardness of opening presents. We then waited to be swept up on the production line and recieve our menu. Despite eyeing the waitresses with arched necks and smiling faces, a manner which was quickly getting weird, obviously they didn't arrive and after a few more minutes I was worried we had missed a concept of self fulfillment and bravely went and gathered the menus from the central till (yes, I know, welsh thief alert).

20 minutes into our visit and we hadn't been engaged. I know neither of us had showered, and I was wearing clothes from the previous night, but god damn it, if someone in that state doesn't need a Bloody Mary, then the world is failing.

Eventually our waitress came (with a second set of menus in hand) and we got to order. I went for poached eggs on muffins with bacon and hollandaise and my bed partner chose the most expensive breakfast item I have ever seen (an eye wartering £14) of breadcrumbed steak, eggs and potatoes.

It looked like there were about 40 people in the kitchen and the food came out admirably quickly. The poached eggs seemed to have been done in cling film with plenty of white wine vinager and so shockingly tasted like water and vinager instead of egg. This technique produces good results in terms of shape and yolk but looks and tastes meh. The hollaindaise was average and muffins too thick and floury to be a respectable vessel for the eggs and bacon on top.

My friend's steak was an interesting dish with a breaded veal like quality. He enjoyed it though but his eggs suffered from the same issues and his empty plate had the unfortunate proof of opaque diluted sperm like white water sat on top. All in all it was a breakfast which was mutton dressed as lamb. It looked good, cost quite a bit, and the venue is excellent but the quality just wasn't there.

Dukes really could be a good place. It looks the part, has an extraordinary good looking clientele and staff and is in an excellent loco. Also the metal sink and foot Pump tap in the unisex toilet is a delight masking the wrongness of a unisex toilet. However for food it isn't quite good enough and the service is a bit random. I dread to think how it would handle a busy dinner time. Maybe that's part of its appeal, but on that outing I won't be rushing back to try the dinner menu