suzanne's journal :: breakfast

3.12.02
What is your favorite breakfast? I think it's my favorite meal, which is ironic because during the week I rarely eat it. I'm lucky not to get to work in the morning accidentally still wearing my pajamas with a toothbrush hanging out of my mouth. But on the weekends, that's a different matter.

Scrambled eggs are my strong suit. My mom is the queen of the magnificent scrambled eggs breakfast. She'll serve a platter full of fluffy yellow clouds, with bacon and biscuits and little red cherry tomatoes for color. Jam, butter, orange juice, coffee . . . sigh. It's heaven. You can hear your arteries slamming shut, but it's heaven, and only for special occasions.

We got the mandatory waffle maker as a wedding gift, and have actually used it quite a bit over the years. I have a great recipe for waffles out of the Better Homes and Gardens cookbook. You fold in egg whites and they are all fluffy and wonderful. I beat the egg whites by hand the first two times I made them, which took about half an hour and my arm felt like it was going to fall off. Then I figured out it takes about two seconds in the KitchenAid mixer. Bob was appalled when he learned that mixer cost over $300 (also a wedding gift), but I say, why should the garage get all the powerful motors? Just think of it as a little lawnmower that sits on the kitchen counter.

I have a great cookbook representing different bed-and-breakfasts in the Pacific Northwest, and there is a recipe for something called Sunshine Pie which is kind of like a sweet egg quiche with orange juice added. I need to find that recipe because my brother-in-law has been asking for it for years. It's really good.

I'm on this topic because I skipped breakfast this morning and am fantasizing about what I'd like to be eating right now if I could eat anything. Of course, there is nothing wrong with a nice bowl of Cap'n Crunch, which is Bob's favorite. He is very disciplined about sitting down to eat his cereal every morning, while I'm running around in circles screeching "Where are my shoes? Where are my shoes?" I don't exactly shine in the morning.

Toad-in-the-holes! I almost forgot about those. We LOVE toad-in-the-holes. I first made them when I was 8 years old, on a bivouac in Australia during summer camp. You build a fire and put some butter in a skillet which goes on the fire. (Yes, this works on the stove, too.) Then you cut or tear a hole in a piece of bread, stick it in the skillet, and crack an egg into the hole. You can either flip the bread over to cook both sides, or spoon the pan drippings over the top to cook it that way. There is nothing more delicious than a buttery fried egg when you are sitting in a big forest of eucalyptus trees and giving the Aussie salute with your free hand to keep the flies away from your face. (Yes, this works in your jammies in front of the television, too.)

We also love really good bread with really good jam on it. We hit up a country kitchen full of jam during our recent trip to Amish country, and it's disappearing fast. Bob says I spread it too thickly, but I say if a little jam is good, a lot of jam must be great. This seems to be my philosophy for everything in life, which probably qualifies me as some kind of hedonist. Sigh.

Even when I'm too busy for breakfast, there must be coffee. Bob woke me up bringing me coffee in bed this morning, which is a saintly act and he should have a stained glass window made of him because of it. Precious, precious man.