Hey Jupiter Brasserie Francaise

Problem of croutons advertised as gluten-free with steak tartare for a celiac. And it was baguette croutons... leading to a painful attack on the immune system for several days.

It’s early on a Saturday morning after a dawn flight into Adelaide and try to find my way back to a cafe I went to last time I was here two years ago from memory. I can’t remember the name so it’s tricky. Adelaide is slowly waking up from the night before. But I find the little lane off Rundle Street and there is the tell tale row of French cafe chairs lined up to face the street. Hey Jupiter, that’s it! Outside, a young woman sips a tulip of Champagne, the boys and their bikes throw back a short black. Inside the mirrored dining room, a French woman waves me to a banquet in the corner and brings me creamy coffee in the perfect sized cup. There are only a few of us here, but by the time my pale fluffy scrambled eggs arrive on a gluten free panini (perfect- not dry, not boring, and just the right amount of soft toasted carbohydrate), the dining room is filling up. A gravelly voice with a note of last night’s Barossa red wine orders the full breakfast. The elderly duo who are clearly regulars make their way to the reserved corner table next to me. My interloper presence seems to shock them for a moment, after all I am in ‘their’ Saturday space. They ease into the leather seat and order madeleines and coffee, newspaper at the ready. Hey Jupiter is a place of morning rituals that is open into the night. The last time I had breakfast here was the last time I was in Adelaide so I guess I just fell in line with what is going on here. I finish my breakfast and walk out into the day ahead, I walk past a man on his mobile explaining to the caller that he is standing outside his favourite cafe. Hey Jupiter, tu es formidable! Don’t change a thing. I’ll be back next time. xox