The Endless Breakfast: How Lavish Spreads Are Turning into Mountains of Waste

The Story Begins with a Table That Groans

It’s a sunny Sunday morning. You and your friends have picked the coziest café in town for a proper serpme kahvaltı — the traditional Turkish breakfast spread. The waiter smiles warmly, takes your tea orders, and promises, “Birazdan sofranız dolar.” And oh, it will.

Plates begin to arrive. Not one or two — dozens. Cheeses in various shades of white and yellow, sliced cucumbers arranged like geometric art, tomatoes so red they look Photoshopped, olives (both black and green, of course), multiple jams in tiny glass bowls, fresh honey dripping from a piece of comb, clotted cream (kaymak), scrambled eggs (menemen), fried pastries, simit, bread, butter, sucuk, salami, börek, fries, peppers, watermelon, tahini-molasses mix, peanut butter, even Nutella for good measure.

The table becomes a canvas, each plate a color on the palette. You take photos, tag the location, post to your Instagram story. And then… you eat. Or at least, you try.

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The Problem No One Likes to Talk About

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: these spreads are not designed for you to finish. They are designed for abundance — the visual promise of “look how much we give you!” The café knows you won’t eat half of it, but abundance sells.

The problem is, once that untouched food leaves your table, it’s not being saved for someone else. It’s going straight into the bin. That untouched cheese? Trash. The half bowl of jam? Trash. The cucumber slices? Trash.

In a country where inflation is biting hard and grocery prices climb like ivy up a wall, seeing kilos of perfectly edible food thrown away in the name of “hospitality” feels almost surreal. But the waste is invisible — hidden behind the kitchen door, after the plates are cleared.

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Why We Love Over-the-Top Breakfasts

Before we point fingers, let’s admit something: we like the spectacle. The “more is better” mindset is deeply ingrained. It’s cultural pride, a display of generosity. For centuries, Turkish hospitality has been about making guests feel like royalty — “You must leave the table full, or we’ve failed.”

In modern times, social media has supercharged this tradition. Cafés compete for the most “Instagrammable” table, adding more dishes not because you asked for them, but because they look good in photos. The goal is visual overload: variety becomes a status symbol.

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The Social Media Effect

One viral breakfast photo can bring dozens of customers through the door. We don’t just eat breakfast anymore — we perform it. We curate it. We crop out the untouched plates in our stories. We never post the aftermath: the table littered with half-full bowls and crumbs, the waiter silently scraping uneaten food into a trash bin.

Social media thrives on illusion. The reality is less glamorous: behind every “perfect” serpme kahvaltı post is a trash bag that smells like olives and jam.

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The Environmental Cost

Food waste is more than just an ethical issue — it’s an environmental one. According to the UN, roughly one-third of the world’s food is wasted every year. Producing that food consumes water, energy, and labor. When it’s thrown away, all those resources are wasted too.

In Turkey, agricultural production is already under strain from climate change and rising costs. Every untouched plate of cheese represents not just a cow’s milk, but the land, feed, and labor that went into making it. Every uneaten tomato carries the water used to grow it — water that’s becoming increasingly scarce.

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Who’s to Blame?

It’s easy to blame the cafés, but the truth is, the problem is shared.

• Cafés & Restaurants want to impress and justify higher prices through quantity.

• Customers enjoy the abundance, expect variety, and often equate “fewer plates” with being cheated.

• Social Media rewards spectacle over sustainability.

We are all complicit in the culture of excess. But that also means we all have the power to change it.

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Possible Solutions

1. Order-What-You-Eat Models

Instead of a fixed “everything at once” spread, cafés could allow customers to choose their favorites from a list. Want two cheeses but no jams? Done.

2. Refill on Request

Start with a smaller spread and offer refills for items people actually finish. This reduces waste and still keeps the table feeling full.

3. Discounts for Less Variety

Offer a cheaper “mini serpme” option for those who don’t need the full Instagram spectacle.

4. Donate Leftovers

This is tricky due to food safety laws, but with proper packaging and quick distribution, uneaten sealed items could be given to food banks or shelters.

5. Public Awareness Campaigns

The more we talk about the waste problem, the more people will think before they order for the sake of a photo.

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A Personal Memory

I remember visiting a small village in Anatolia years ago. The breakfast table there was modest: fresh bread, one type of cheese, olives, tomatoes from the garden, a pot of tea. Nothing went to waste — every plate was cleaned.

The meal felt… warmer. Not because there was less, but because everything was there for a reason. Each bite told a story. There was no pressure to perform for a camera, no feeling of guilt after. Just genuine hospitality and connection.

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The Irony of Modern Hospitality

We’ve turned hospitality into theater. The stage is the table, the props are plates of food we don’t finish, the audience is our followers online. But when the curtain falls, the waste is real.

Generosity should be measured in care, not in kilograms of food destined for the trash. Imagine a serpme kahvaltı where every plate was eaten, where abundance meant enough for everyone, not too much for anyone.

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The Final Bite

Next time you sit down for a lavish breakfast, try this:

• Order less than you think you want.

• Focus on what you actually eat.

• Remember that every untouched plate has a hidden cost.

Because the real luxury isn’t a table that overflows. It’s a meal that nourishes you without wasting the world’s resources.