The garden of earthly delights. Sweet.

I had these small local sweet potatoes and I was feeling adventurous, so I attempted to cook them into my eggs.  I wasn't sure they would soften up enough to be palatable, but with some patience, indeed they did.  Garlic, sweet red onion, sweet potatoes, spinach, eggs, red chili flakes, salt, pepper. Wonderful scramble.  The strawberries were absolutely, deeply, sweet and brought out all the sweetness in the potatoes and the onion.  Hit that ideal blend of sweet and salty.

 And there's something to this thing of having breakfast under the trees and sky.  I encourage it whenever possible.

"I fights to the finish...

For those who aren't getting this reference:

"...when I eats my spinach!"

From the theme song sung by none other than that inimitable cartoon character, Popeye the Sailorman.

I've always been a fan of that Greek diner staple, the spinach omelet .  I'm not sure why it came to me this late that it would be easy to make at home, but it has and it has now been elevated to a passion.

Spinach, garlic, eggs, sliced tomatoes, hot black tea.

NYC b'fast

Spelt toast from Pain Quotidien, black tea, tomato salad (lemon, olive oil, salt, pepper) - and eggs with KALE!  The kale was a revelation, wonderful flavor and texture.  Inasmuch as I was a guest it was nice to prepare something healthy and delicious for my apartment mates.

Inspiration

Health is important and I haven't had a very good version of it so my acupuncturist has finally twisted my arm and is making me go on this sort of cleanse diet.  Truth is he is very kind and sweet and would never twist my arm and in fact this cleanse turns out not to be one of those mean and painful ones but rather this kind of fabulous one.  So yesterday I find myself at the unbelievably beautiful Carrboro farmer's market.  Which maybe I'll document and share some pictures because it really is glorious.  So here we have this stunning thing I figured out to make.  Sauted garlic greens and zucchini (local! magnificent!) with one egg - done with just a bit of olive oil.  Salt.  Pepper.  A pinch of red pepper flakes.  Tumeric.  Sprinkled with some freshly ground flax seed.  Hot black tea (yes I'm away from coffee for a while, but this beautiful organic black tea is really good).  Outside in green garden.  I'm already feeling better.

Basics are good

Two fried eggs, course ground pink Himalayan salt, cracked pepper, a chunk of sourdough farmer's bread, apricot preserve, salted butter.  Hot coffee.  Water.  Candles burning.  Breakfast brings peace.

Nothing wrong with that

I met my friend Sally for breakfast and a walk along Bolin Creek.  We met at our usual spot, Foster's Market in Chapel Hill.  The visit was nice as always, and apparently I had so much to chat about that I didn't finish my scone.  So when I got home, I brewed some fresh coffee, placed the lovely and not-too-sweet lemon poppyseed scone on this vintage blue plate.  Tasty.  And aesthetically pleasing.

The problem of redundancy and other aesthetic questions

A few notes.  I've been running out of breakfasts to post about.  This doesn't mean I love breakfast any less, but there simply has been a lot of redundancy.  Perhaps I've reached the limits of this home breakfast blog - although I do love eggs and this hasn't been terribly egg-centric.  I also imagine I would like to begin to document lovely and amazing breakfasts served in the vast sea of cafes, restaurants and hotels in this big and beautiful world of ours.  I have not given up on that as a possibility.  It is a lovely and idyllic dream.

Now, as for today's breakfast, I need to straight up admit that while the above-pictured La Brea Bakery pecan raisin toast was nice, I've solidly decided that it has been demoted to third best of my current faves.  First place hands down goes to Weaver Street Market's walnut raisin (yes I know it's not pecan and therein might alone be a huge flavor difference, but they're really quite similar - similar enough to compare - and this, after all, my blog so I kind of make the rules).  The WSM version is just super crusty and has a sour dough-ish tang to it.  All in all it's heartier and has more soul.  This kind of makes me sad, actually.  I used to live around the corner from La Brea Avenue in Los Angeles, around the corner from the actual La Brea Bakery.  This was a magical place and I'm wondering - nay, I'm assuming - that the version that I'm now purchasing at the Harris Teeter Market in Carrboro, North Carolina, has been created for the mass market - baked, frozen, shipped and finished at the market.  Somewhere in that process something has been lost.  Sad.

As for my current second-place fave that one goes solidly to the Whole Foods version.  It's quite good.

That's it for now - we'll see what the next post brings...

Breakfast adventures in the real world

Once again I was so focused on my breakfast that I dug in before documenting the unbitten version.  I have my kindly breakfast companion to thank for pointing out that perhaps I might want to grab an image before proceeding.  Here we have a local diner breakfast.  Breadman's in Chapel Hill, NC.  Custom omelet with broccoli, provolone, salsa, sour cream with home fries (extra crispy) and rye toast (with, by request, real butter).  I know it's kind of sad that one has to specify the butter to be real, but at least they give you the option.  Note the charming golden packages of Land O' Lakes butter.  Hot coffee, water.  Service completely on point.  Like ridiculously on point.  Every picky detail was taken care of like for example I prefer to have the ingredients in my omelet folded in - the chef there sometimes floats the cheese on top.  Done.  Extra crispy home fries.  Done.  The aforementioned real butter.  Done, done and done. And it was served piping hot.

Encore! Encore!

Yesterday's breakfast was so enjoyable, I thought to myself, why not bring back the magic today?

Proof of a nice breakfast

This morning I was so jazzed about breakfast that I began before documenting it (hence the bite out of the toast).  Here we have unparalleled raisin walnut toast (by the bread artisans @ Weaver Street Market in Carrboro, North Carolina), Couturier goat cheese (mild, creamy), perfect organic Valencia orange slices (sweet! juicy!), hot coffee, water, and the most mild spring day.  The world outside is draped in a sheer overlay of pale yellow pollen. 

Evidence.  Fig. No. 1.  This orange was so ideal I needed to prove to you that it was, indeed, THAT good.

Better late than never

Hot buttered seeded toast with thinly sliced sharp cheddar and organic flame raisins.  Hot coffee.  Water.  Late enough in the day for this to be brunch.  Or lunch, really.  But as I stated earlier, the first meal is by definition breakfast.  And this is no exception.  The savory element and substantial bite of the cheddar makes this a meal that will keep me going until dinnertime.  I'll leave that meal for others to blog about.

Every morning a new opportunity

I suppose by now it has become apparent that the ideal breakfast is not fancy.  Which is not to say that once in a while a fancy breakfast is not worthwhile or special or important or valid.  Not at all.  However think about it.  Breakfast is an opportunity that you get every day.  There are plenty of missed opportunities in life but breakfast - you get a shot at that one pretty much every day.  And please know that for this I am grateful.  Food is precious and if you're reading this you're most likely sufficiently nourished to indulge in reveries about lovely ways to start your morning.  So, you and I, we're both doing ok.

Here we have seeded toast with salted organic butter drizzled with clover honey.  Hot coffee.  Water.  And the sounds of birds welcoming the spring through the backdoor screen.

Boiled eggs are there for you when you need them

Boiled organic brown eggs on vintage plate with out of focus toast.

I like them fairly well done.  Peel shell.  Slice in half,  Curl of butter on each.  Salt and pepper.  I end up putting them on the toast.

Boiled eggs are uncomplicated and good when life feels chaotic.  Trust me on this.  Boiled eggs help.

Cold Cereal Rules OK!

Bowl.  Spoon.  Heritage flakes.  Organic flame raisins.  Soy milk.  Hot coffee.  Water.

Pretty nice breakfast.

Waffle House = Mecca

When I arrived in North Carolina for the first time, on Interstate 40 heading toward Chapel Hill through the darkness, I saw a yellow beacon beaming across the nighttime sky.  Black letters against a yellow lightbox glowed with the words "Waffle House".  I cried out, "What's that?!"

It was late and I was weary from my flight.  Within minutes we were seated at the counter of my first Waffle House, and it's been a love affair ever since.  There's something about The House that always works for me.  It's the hot diner style coffee.  It's the great folks who work there.  Then there are the waffles.

Perfectly hot.  A bit eggy.  Not too fluffy.  The fake maple syrup doesn't try too hard to taste like the real stuff.  It's more like butterscotch and it is a harmonious compliment to the waffle.

There's always a narrative component to the Waffle House experience, like those times when the whole staff is fighting.  Keith and I have witnessed some pretty gnarly fights.  Or it's when your server is just a cool person you were glad to meet.  Or maybe it's during an ice storm when you've had no power for days and Waffle House is the only place that's open because they are able to make coffee on the gas burners and cook whatever they can on the griddle.

Oh yes.  And there's one more thing.  Check out the jukebox at any Waffle House.  They always include songs that were written and recorded explicitly for and about Waffle House.  Where else can you eat breakfast to a soundtrack created specifically for the place you're in with songs on the subject of eating breakfast?  I remember the first time I was there in that Waffle House out by the airport.  Keith leans in and says, "Hear that music?  They're singing about Waffle House."

And sure enough, I could just make out the strains of a kind of trucker's anthem: "She pours my coffeeeeee/Like an old friiiennnnd..." 

Now that's good eatin'.

Travel day

Fluffy omelet with feta and spinach.  Rye toast butter strawberry peach preserves.  Red potatoes with onion.  Sea salt.  Pepper.  California sunlight.

I was glad my last meal before leaving Los Angeles was one I prepared for my dad and myself.  My mom helped with the potatoes and I was no help to her ranting as I was about them not getting crispy.  That didn't stop me from eating two servings.

It was a long day of travel - didn't get back home in NC before midnight - and this substantial breakfast made the whole day better.

Welsh Lady Marmalade

Toasted seeded bread with a bit of salted creamery butter.  Chopped mango pieces.  Goat cheese.  Seville Orange Marmalade.  Hot coffee.

I really wanted something nice this morning pickin's were a bit slim in the fridge.  Had some seeded bread goat cheese leftover.  Some frozen mango in the freezer.  And just a bit left of this lovely, delectable marmalade, which, I'm not ashamed to admit to you I had purchased in the gourmet section of TJ Maxx.  It can be fun to see what they have over there in that section.  I probably wouldn't have noticed this unassuming little bottle, but Keith heard I was looking for marmalade and found it for me.

The brand is Welsh Lady and I can't say enough about it.  Aside from being the lightest, most balanced marmalade ever, the verbiage on the jar is written in both English and Welsh.

If the classic question, "Voulez-vous couchez avec moi, ce soir?" were put to me with the promise of such a petit dejeuner the next morning, I might have to seriously consider the offer.

Breakfast and reading - a grand tradition

While breakfast makes for a perfectly delightful shared repast, there is also a long tradition of the solitary breakfast, which is often accompanied by reading material.  Depicted here is beautiful correspondence from my friend elin who is living in Lyon, France.  Right before she left it had come to light that we both adore receiving real live mail, and so we have been sending things to each other transatlantically over the past several months.  Also pictured here:  Cinnamon toast.  Cinnamon toast is the poor man's cinnamon roll, but it is pleasant in its own right.  This particular version incorporates seven-grain bread, Turbinado sugar and organic cinnamon.  The key is to take the toast out of the toaster oven just before it's done, butter it, and return it briefly into the oven, turned off but warm enough to melt the butter.  Generously spoon the cinnamon sugar and perhaps return it one last moment for the sugar and butter to blend.  For me there is an illicit thrill in the crunch of the melting sugar, a pleasure not available in its more refined cousin.

Daylight savings (Sunday breakfast at noon)

Fresh ground almond butter on seeded toast, drizzled with clover honey, sprinkled with a few crystals of Pink Himalyan rock salt.  Sliced yellow apples.  Classical music.  Bird songs.  Hot coffee.  It sure doesn't feel like afternoon.  Daylight savings messes with your head.  At least there's breakfast.

Guest breakfast

My niece Alison came to visit on a school break.  When I asked if there was anything she wanted in the house she immediately enthused, "Eggs!"  Apparently the food service at school only serves powdered eggs and she was dying for real fresh eggs.  She insisted on preparing breakfast for us, an Israeli dish called Shakshuka. 

Ali chopped up onions, peppers and tomatoes and sauted them slowly with tumeric.  It creates a lovely soupy sauce in the pan.  Then with a spoon she makes slight grooves in the sauce and breaks eggs into that, covers the pan and lets the eggs poach in the savory sauce.

The eggs and sauce combination are spooned onto toast with melted cheese.  We used my grandma Nettie's old blue and white dishes and I told Ali a bit about Nettie, her lovely Russian Jewish accent, the fact that she sewed all of her own beautiful clothes, and that once she hitchhiked, wearing a full-length pink sequined gown of her own making, to a family bar mitzvah when she missed her bus.  I love breakfast.

Two item breakfast (and one of them is a beverage)

Met my friend Sally at Foster's Market in Chapel Hill.  Fresh baked orange walnut scone and hot coffee.  My theory of self-serve coffee is to take about a quarter of a cup at a time.  That way it's hot coffee.  There's a reason those old fashioned diners used to serve coffee in those short, shallow cups.  Kept the customers with hot coffee.  The mug thing just doesn't work for me.  It's easier on servers - fewer refills - but for us lovers of piping hot coffee, it's not happening.  Self-serve = hotter better.

Sally had a latte and house-made granola with fresh fruit.  I like the half-and-half strawberries/bananas thing they put together here.  I tend not to be a big granola fan.  But if I have it, it has to be awesome homemade stuff and I pretty much prefer it as a dry snack.  It turns the milk sweet and I find it cloying and unpalatable.  But Sally seemed to like it and we talked about everything and then took a long walk in the rain along Bolin Creek.  I love breakfast.  It makes the rest of the day okay.

I dream about this stuff

Morning sun and coffee, brown bread, dried organic mission figs, brie.

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Morning sun and coffee, brown bread, dried organic mission figs, brie.

Simplicity is the food of the gods

Toasted pecan raisin bread, goat cheese, perfectly sweet strawberries

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Toasted pecan raisin bread, goat cheese, perfectly sweet strawberries

It was inevitable

To say I have a thing for breakfast is an egregious understatement.  I need my first meal of the day to be breakfast, even if that meal doesn't happen until 5 p.m.  I don't need anything elaborate, but there are certain qualities that signify breakfastness.  With this blog I will be investigating just what those qualities might be.

Eggy French toast made with fresh orange zest, warm maple syrup and a sprinkle of crushed Pink Himalayan rock salt. Fresh sweet oranges. Hot coffee.