Normally when there’s food and fire, I’ve been cooking. I submit Chris’ exhibit A, formerly known as oven mitts:

So I was surprised when at The Gracie Mews for breakfast on my birthday recently, my eggs and bacon arrived at the table engulfed in flame. Ok, there was a small birthday candle wedged in some potatoes between two slices of bacon. And then the wait staff sang, which was brilliant, although as English wasn’t everyone’s first language it started going free-style about halfway through. Another song was in the offing but bacon contains grease, and cute little birthday candle flames quickly become threatening infernos when said bacon is piled around said flame, so I quickly made a wish (well two, the first being not to become engulfed in flames myself) and had a very cool birthday breakfast.

And before you say it, no, I will not try this at home.