Monthly Archives: January 2011

There is a reason I love breakfast

There is a reason I love breakfast.

First of all, it has it’s own self-titled club, burrito, pizza and casserole. It’s the motivation for a whole genre of one-night only hotels. And, when done correctly, the good kinds of breakfasts can be the first few ingredients in the recipe for a perfect day.

Do you ever wonder why people celebrate milestones (birthdays, engagements, you name it) with a breakfast in bed? It’s because breakfast = happiness.

It has something to do with the crispy edges of an over-easy egg sitting atop a mound of buttered sourdough, sharp cheddar, delightfully savory sausage, and fresh tomato. Oh, and avocado, if you’re lucky.

Gosh. Merely typing out those words makes me salivate.

Also, yellow is undoubtedly the happiest color. My Mom always says the best meals are the most colorful ones, and she’s right. If I were an artist, I would paint the blue ceramic plates in our apartment with all those colors: the mismatched coffee mugs neighboring harmonious shades of yellow and orange in the forms of yolk and cheddar, the greens of the avocado, the unblemished white of the egg, and the shiny-est, reddest tomato, all with streams of morning light pouring in. I’d do this if only for the sake of thinking of nothing but breakfast for the whole time it took me to paint the thing.

See? Just look at all the color!

But, alas, breakfast is more than just a slice of savory pie sent right down from heaven. There’s much more to it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be writing this. I mean, I love when apples are baked with sugar and butter, in any form, recipe or concoction, but I don’t think I’ve ever written about that. Mmmmm.

Anyway.

Breakfast is about light. It’s about Saturdays. It’s about laziness, and the sound of sizzling bacon and the flip of hash browns that prompt me to get out of bed. Finally.

Breakfast reminds me of how lucky I am.

I’m lucky that my apartment literally fills with light in the mornings. The kind of light that makes you want to get out, and seize the day and DO something. And the kind of light, that on a Saturday morning, makes you get out a broom because every nook and crannie and dust ball is lit up like a freakin spotlight.

Breakfast reminds me that I am so fortunate to have a beautiful apartment, fresh ingredients, the time to eat it, and that I’m able to pay for the good cage-free eggs – the kind with the super orange yolks that make everything so pretty.

But most of all, it makes me thankful for my wonderful chef: breakfast maker-hash brown browner-egg cooking-extraordinaire. There are few things in this world that make me happier than seeing Sam bounce around the kitchen on a Saturday morning. Well, there are few things that make me happier than seeing Sam happy on a Saturday morning. But, yeah, the breakfast part helps. I don’t think he’s missed making me a Saturday breakfast once the entire time we’ve been dating. Keeper. For sure.

But, you know what? None of that is the real reason I love breakfast.

I love it simply because it’s more delicious, savory and delightful than any other food group. After all, there are few meals in this world that can make you say, “I just burped… and it tasted awesome.”

And, if breakfast weren’t the best, then why would I have just eaten it for dinner?

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