My irregular commute, a morning run across the city just ahead of peak hour, takes me within striking distance of The Brown Dog Cafe in the back streets of the Gabba.
It was a place which intriuged me for a long time. An old, anonymous corner lot, out of the way, and yet the footpath outside always seemed crowded. Eventually I checked it out, as is my want, and discovered one of the local secrets of the southside.
The Lazy Dog Roll.
Like the cafe from which it draws its name, the roll is simple. A white bun, fresh sliced ham, cheese, a fried egg and BBQ – or possibly HP – sauce. If I had to nominate a breakfast to eat every day for the rest of my life, I think this would be it. I never tire of this bloody thing, and find myself thinking about as I'm racing ahead of the peak hour wave to drop Thomas to school.
There are heaps of other breakfast options at the Dog, some of them remarkable value, but I can never get past this roll and a flat white in a large mug. I'd post a picture, but I've never known one to last long enough on the plate to capture an image.