here’s a war being fought right now that many people don’t know about. First blood’s been drawn – and

you’re always in the firing line. What’s worse is that you’ve been fuelling this tussle by the choices you continue to make on a daily basis.

Each time you travel and tell the waiter that you want your eggs cooked sunny side or over easy, your health bread slightly toasted (in order not to burn the pumpkin seeds) and the bottomless Ethiopian coffee to keep coming, you spur on locals fighting it out to see who can serve up the cheapest breakfast.

I was first made aware of this when I visited a little town in Spain called Vitoria. After laying my head on the softest pillow my ears, face and neck had ever experienced, I decided to hit the town to see what was on offer. The catch: I only had є1 in my pocket.

The first establishment I entered offered a mouth-watering el desayuno (“breakfast”) consisting of a hot beverage, three slices of toast and a selection of jams and cheeses.

I then moved on to what had been a tapas bar the previous night. However, now all it was offering were the abovementioned eats, with the additional big guns of chorras and porras. Just in case I was ever subpoenaed as a witness for the ongoing breakfast war, these variations of deep-fried, sweetened cylinders of dough were dusted with finger-staining white icing or cinnamon sugar, to ensure I could never deny devouring them.

As I proceeded merrily on my trip as a lord of the breakfast war, I realised that at some of the restaurants, sidewalk cafés, food trucks, clubs,

flower shops and bars (Spaniards will turn anything into a food-serving establishment), my less-than-perfect understanding of the language meant I had forfeited a glass of wine, which was often included in the price. It turned out I’d unwittingly shaken my head each time they asked me if I wanted Rioja, Crianza or Reserva. It

Breakfast wars

My less-than-perfect understanding of the language meant I had forfeited a glass of wine.

20 Sawubona April 2015

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Red wine, strawberry jam and red velvet cake are all part of a culinary blood bath, writes Sibusiso Mkwanazi

struck me later that these were all red wines – supporting my theory about a blood bath at the breakfast table.

Another region that boldly takes part in this war is Durban, where the combat’s advertised on pamphlets, websites and blogs, as well as being promoted by every man and woman on the street. Here, the tactic’s slightly more underhand, as the winner is whoever can sell you the biggest breakfast for R20. This was when I found new meaning to the phrase “Durban poison”.

Never before has the offering of eggs, toast, a smorgasbord of hot and cold meats and some of the best fruit on offer in the country enticed people to pick sides the way they do in this part of SA – so much so that the culinary warfare’s complemented by wifi, while bottomless coffee is used to keep patrons awake for yet another round of food.

In this conflict zone, the art of war’s taken up a notch when

restaurants, markets and the usually tame tuisnywerheid (home industry) go as far as using Braille menus and red velvet cake as “breakfast dessert” to pick off their victims – and win the battle.

Now I know why breakfast is considered to be the most important meal of the day.

25SColJourney.indd 1 2015/03/11 2:02 PM