Still Life With Breakfast

Ah, the first and arguably the finest meal of the day. Such limitations and possibilities together. I live with a man who has an extremely rigid concept of what can be constituted as "breakfast food". Basically, if it ain't eggs, it ain't breakfast. I think he'll on occasion make an exception for lemon pastries with coffee coffee coffee, and tofu is also accepted now, but isn't that funny how no other meal has as closed a set of items as breakfast has. Eggs, toast, coffee, tea, donuts, hashbrowns, orange juice, pancakes, french toast....sometimes pie and cake.....sometimes champagne......what is the common element? A split between indulgence and nutritional responsibility? Some people have smoothies with protein powder. Some eggs and bacon or tofu and toast. Some have donut holes and frappacinos. Some poor buggers have nothing at all....

Breakfast is such a powerful time. You roll out of bed, groggy and disoriented, perhaps rubbing the last bit of a lingering rush of caffeine. Or perhaps not, if you're one of those who can thrive without it in the morning. Bully for you. The rest of us prepare our morning libations with ritual even if it's so old hat now that most of us don't think to notice or enjoy it. I still try to. My french press has become a good friend of mine, one with whom I share a friendly conversation each morning as it helps me to become human again.

Such wonderful things we have for breakfast. My gentleman friend has taken it upon himself lately to practice the art of the omelette. He's doing very well, they look and taste extremely professional, although I still must take mine with ketchup. My boyfriend doesn't understand this, although he puts cold tomato sauce on his when it's available. I have a friend who has told me on several occasions that if we had met in elementary school, we would not be friends. She refused to befriend anyone who put ketchup on their eggs.

She is a woman of principle.




I believe the best album for breakfast is the Velvet Underground and Nico by the Velvet Underground. Sunday morning just lends itself to brunch, especially if you are still a little drunk from Saturday night or it is raining outside. Satie and David Bowie are pretty good too.

I have another good friend who throws breakfast parties. Not exclusively, but more often than not. Almost always on a Sunday morning, my friend invites a few people to his sunny and cluttery kitchen for a mimosa, a mocha, and crepes. Oh, all kinds of crepes! And always glorious ones. Having spent years perfecting his crepe technique, he can now put just about anything inside a crepe successfully. My personal favorite is parmesan and prosciutto, although the chocolate jam ones are also divine. I can think of no place that I would rather spend a Sunday than in my friend's kitchen for a breakfast party, drinking champagne and talking about wonderfully fascinating things from japanese film to his nephew's obsession with trains to anything else under the sun. Perhaps it's the champagne that makes the conversation flow so. It's so extravagant drinking in the mornings. But what better time to start, really?

He also taught me how to make fantastic french toast.



And here are some bagels I made. They are excellent for breakfast with cream cheese and jalapeno jelly.