Yesterday I pondered the publication cycle of the London Review of Breakfasts; not it's existence, if it's partnering the Guardian (and it's not April 1), it's real and that's all that needs to be said. My musing was just how often does it appear.

Today I was delighted to get an e-mail from the LR of Breakfasts and it's not a weekly, monthly, annual or occasional one-off, it's flying hot off the griddle three times a week.

To properly unlock the day, to face up to what may be a day of quiet joy, or endless indignities, or both, or something far from either and utterly different, there's only one key to turn: Breakfast.

Good food, a suitable ambiance, and a few lashings of ingredient X - that old elusive, seldom seen, but never forgotten when experienced. Is there anything else that can make the difference between an average breakfast and an epiphany in early morning eating than these?

Breakfast epiphanies are as rare as hen's teeth, well, for me anyway, so I'll never turn a recommendation down, especially when it's as heartfelt, as crisply expressed, and more often than not wittily addressed, as it is in the LR of Breakfasts, which is why I'm proud to add their link on to my blog.