This might seem like kind of a retarded post, but a feature story in this month’s Details magazine has reminded me about how much I love breakfast. It’s kind of ironic, because morning is my least favorite time of day. But I love every kind of breakfast food, and the fact that I’m never up (or hungry) in the morning means I hardly ever get to eat breakfasty things anymore.
I remember when I was a kid that my family would often go out to eat pancakes on Sundays. I looked forward to it all the time, and sometimes it was all that would get me through mass…just thinking about that melted butter and warm syrup. Or sometimes on Saturdays, or Sundays when we skipped chiurch, my dad would bring donuts home (he was a cop, and yes he ate donuts all the time). I’d eat my donuts at the table while smelling my dad’s delicious coffee with cream and sugar all mixed in (he would let me taste it sometimes, and it never tasted as good as it smelled).
During the week my mom would cook either cereal (Cream of Wheat), eggs or toaster waffles for breakfast, although I was never hungry enough that early in the morning to really enjoy it. It was kind of ridiculous how early school started, and I could almost throw up right now just thinking about it. Although at some point I started realizing that most of my friends didn’t have moms that cooked them breakfast every morning, and then I started enjoying it a little more.
Sometimes when my dad was working the night shift, which was pretty often when I was younger, my mom would make scrambled egg sandwiches for dinner. She’d always make easy things like that when my dad wasn’t eating with us, and we’d eat in the living room while watching tv. Eventually it was just my mom and me on Friday nights…my older sister was just old enough to be out with friends and my dad would be working, and so I have these memories of hanging out with my mom with these scrambled egg sandwiches and watching a cheesy miniseries on tv. And of course staying up late until whatever we were watching was over.
It’s funny because I started this post by thinking I was just going to go on stupidly about how much I like pancakes and other high carb early delights, but now all these great childhood memories are coming flooding back. I suppose there are a lot of emotions I have tied in with breakfast, possibly more so than with any other food, and now it all makes a little more sense.
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