Saint Kitchen

Saint Kitchen, Jewellery Quarter

The last time I ate in Saint Kitchen it all went to shit. I had a breakfast there and got embroiled in a row with a member of staff when I didn’t finish my food, who then took it to Twitter and said some defamatory things about me, to which I got pissed off and said nasty stuff back. Some man from the TV who now lives too close for comfort then became involved and I continued to act like a prick when he was nasty to me, which didn’t help when I went to an awards ceremony, won the stupid thing, stayed up all night and sent said man from TV a picture of the award from my local pub the following morning. Another man, this time from the radio, tried to have my award taken away whilst man from TV blocked me. I then said some really mean things to which telly man kicked off and I ended up on page four of the local paper with my dad phoning me and telling me to behave. Sorry dad. Anyway, I learnt my lesson and now live the model life and still see TV man in the pub from time to time where we pretend not to notice each other. It wasn’t my finest moment and thanks Liam, you absolute arse. The End.

I said I’d never go back. Then they were taken over and I had a really nice and brief online chat with a lovely new owner who almost won me over by saying that Liam no longer worked there, and absolutely had me convinced when she was so obviously proud of the food coming out of the kitchen. I should probably let you know that she offered to get this lunch in and that I turned the kind offer down. One, I wanted to support by giving instead of taking, and two, given the history with Saint Kitchen any praise from my part should be genuine.

So get ready for praise. It’s improved greatly on the old set-up and is very good, if certainly not perfect. The coffee is lovely, up there with the best in the city, and team on the lunch we visited friendly and cool and not Liam. A brunch dish with mushrooms and various greens on sourdough is perked up by romesco and green harissa sauces, and is very well received. My order, a bagel with eggs and chorizo jam, is chosen because the words chorizo jam give me a stonker. It turns out to be the best thing we eat by a distance; simple and packed with flavour, that jam is more a chunky sauce but my chin wears it with the same pride. At six quid it’s also firmly on my Brum bargains list.

Alas, it’s not all to this standard. A sausage roll has technically sound pastry work and is well seasoned, but ultimately lacks oomph and is a slog to finish. Patatas bravas are nothing really of the sort; the spuds are good but the spicy tomato sauce is far removed from what it should be and it’s under seasoned. It’s also too wet overall. But really does this matter? Not to me. I’m personally happy to have the option of great coffee in that area, knowing that I can stay for a bagel and that my girlfriend can eat well if she wants. Moreover I’m happy that I can do so in an environment where I’m wanted as a customer. The new(ish) Saint Kitchen can stay, I’m a fan.

You’ll be pleased to know A2B is also a Liam free zone

Saint Kitchen 

It started with a tweet.

I never intended to write this. It was supposed to be a nice Saturday morning breakfast with the better half in a place that we’ve frequently been to.  And even when it dissapointed, I was willing to just move on and accept it just wasn’t our day. But they had to rattle me, didn’t they.  So here is the reason I will never be visiting Saint Kitchen again.

Claire orders eggs benedict with chorizo and black pudding, I have spiced eggs with chorizo. Claire quite likes hers, I really don’t like mine. In all of my visits to Saint Kitchen I was yet to have a dud dish and this was shite. A watery concoction of tomatoes, peas, and potatoes with two poached eggs and very good toast. It is flat on spice and under seasoned. I ask Claire for her opinion. “Shit” she says, “it tastes like a supermarket pasta sauce”. She’s right. I order additional toast. It arrives burnt. I give up on it less than halfway through.


Now this is where the fun starts. I make the grave error of going to the till and telling them my opinion. Here I am greeted by Liam, a slender man with delicate features whose YouTube footage of him playing the piano have amassed a whopping 78 views. I’ve watched it; you shouldn’t bother, his piano playing is as average as his coffee skills. I’m not looking for anything other than to share my view and I simply tell him that this is the worst breakfast I’ve eaten here, to which he replies “maybe it wasn’t to your taste”. It’s not the response I was expecting.

Riled, I take to Twitter because I find the nonchalance of their response appalling. What follows is Liam and I exchanging insults in a very ungraceful manner. Liam, if you’re reading this in between those excellent piano sessions, I’m sorry for calling you a prick. He calls me a ‘self-entitled arsehole’ which is true, and ‘just a food blogger’ which is not.

You see, I’m not just a food blogger, I’m a paying customer. I work hard to pay for these meals and that means I’m entitled to my opinion. Food is my passion and my blog is a hobby. My platform at the point of complaint is irrevelant. Whether if it was my first time or my seventh hundred, food blog or not, I should be allowed to speak up if didn’t reach expectations. They charge £8.50 for that breakfast and for that price I expect to be able to finish it. They message me on Twitter to say the next time is on them – like that will ever happen given the attitude of the staff. Liam, an argument won is a customer lost. Saint Kitchen will never see me again.