Wednesday, March 11, 2009


I remember so well several specifics about breakfast in my parents' house:

1) on weekends, my father would stand at the peninsula in the middle of the huge kitchen and fry bacon on an avocado green electric griddle.

2) he was also an expert omelet-maker, flips and all. But...

3) he would use solidified bacon fat he stored in an old can in the fridge to make the omelets, which grossed me out immeasurably. And...

4) I ate copious amounts of Lender's Bagels.

I have such a clear picture of myself at the round oak table in that kitchen, wrapped up in a robe, eating distractedly and reading the paper. It's like I spent my whole life, right there.

Oh. Right.
I did.

I lived in that house, off and on, with my parents, and later, with out, for thirty five years.

Sometimes, when I wake up here, in this house, there is a split second before my eyes adjust that I think I am still there. I can still hear the sound the kitchen drawers made, the screech and slam of the basement door, and count the eleven stairs up to the second floor.

Now I live here, in this house, with many, many girls. You may imagine breakfast to be chaos and frenzy, but actually, I find everyone a bit subdued, mostly. And like everything else in our blended-family household, breakfast happens in shifts.

Some days, there are just five of us. Some days just three of us. Some days, eight. Those days, I try to stay in bed for as long as possible.

On school days when we have eight, there is usually a good deal of bagel toasting, toast eating, cinnamon toast making. And Emily, girl after my own heart, will have at anytime of day what I consider the perfect concoction: a whole wheat english muffin with peanut butter. Bless her.
Fruit is major in our house, morning, noon and night. So even on days when I need to skulk back to bed and let the storm blow over, I sneak downstairs and put out a bowl of cut up oranges, or cantaloupe and blueberries (amazing colors, together), or sliced grapefruit, or that mythical treat my girls always beg for: fruit salad. What, you may ask, is the difference between a bowl full of fruit and fruit salad? Well, I've asked this also, and it seems that if I spend an extra six minutes cutting things up small and mixing an extra one or two fruits in, it is transformed into fruit salad, which holds much glorious wonder for them. Go figure.

On weekends, Tim's thing is always french toast or pancakes. And he's great at it. At the gallery on Third Fridays or openings, we often have a big wooden bowl filled with sliced up french bread. We rarely go through it all, so we end up having these incredible mini-french toasts for the next couple of days.

I made the mistake, in the last three weeks, of learning to make pancakes, myself. Seriously, I had never done it before. It was always the other guy's job.

So, of course, it's not that tough, after all. And I now find myself making pancakes for weekday breakfasts more often than not. I failed miserably at one of the basic rules of domestic delegation. What the heck am I going to do next, go out and cut the grass?

Then, the storm blows over. Or, at least, blows over to another part of town, where the schools are located, and I am left with a three-year-old, a kitchen to clean, and the realization that I haven't eaten breakfast, yet.

I clean up. I set her up with something to do. And I cook for myself:

Goat cheese and arugula omelet

whisk together,
Two eggs
salt and pepper

T butter in a small pan, swirling to coat

Pour in eggs, pulling back edges to let the eggs spread thinly in the pan, 'til set.

Distribute on half,
1 oz. goat cheese
1/2 c arugula, spinach, even baby salad greens

Fold over on itself, and, if feeling courageous, flip and cook for a minute or two.
Otherwise, slide off the pan, and eat, sitting right there in the kitchen, reading a cookbook, or staring off into space. Tell three-year-old you'll be there in a minute, to add a room onto the block house for the cows.

No bacon fat required.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.

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Blogger julochka said...

now i wish i'd put spinach, which i happen to have i the fridge, on my lunchtime omelet.

must go buy melon for fruit salad...

thanks for sharing your morning this morning. (where DO you find the time?)


March 11, 2009 8:08 AM  
Blogger 3BestFriends said...

That sounds like a marvellous morning routine, I'm jealous and seriously hope to achieve such greatness someday

March 11, 2009 4:07 PM  

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