Food Friday: Breakfast in Excess

I blearily observed this towering creation last weekend, as I dug into my humble bowl of museli twigs and sticks and pencil shavings, which was slightly moistened with paint water (1% milk). The Tall One was home, and his furnace needed stoking. Allow me to describe this initial fueling of his day: one homemade biscuit, two thick-cut slices of apple wood smoked bacon, two eggs (scrambled), and one sausage. In the background, the Gentle Read might glimpse another platter of eggs; three (scrambled). Also, there were four more biscuits, and a plate with a plump pristine bar of Irish butter. Coffee, skim milk, juice. Eventually, I refrigerated the reduced pile of butter and two leftover biscuits. He had moved on to the gym.

Breakfast is a very popular event around here. The ancient cat starts howling for her gravy-laden can of wet food at about 5:57 every morning. (Really. She is partly Siamese, but I swear she has Swiss watch cogs inside that tiny little brain.) Luke, the wonder dog, happily waits for his bowl of kibble. He is agreeable, and low key; the perfect breakfast companion. I crack open a Diet Coke and suck in some caffeine while scanning the morning paper. I warm up the coffee machine and set out a spoon and a bowl for cereal for my husband, who is equally low key. That is on a normal workday.

Weekends with visitors or temporarily needy children are another story. When the children are home we tend to make elaborate productions of the meals. We relish the time spent hunting and gathering, buying the slightly more exotic and expensive foods we hope will tempt their finicky tastes. Who cares if the blueberries are from Chile with dodgy pesticide rules, and cost $5.99 a pint? The Pouting Pescatarian is only going to be home for a couple of days! She’ll love them! Apple wood smoked bacon at $8.99 a pound? Let’s get two pounds, you know how hungry he always is!

The elaborate breakfasts are a ruse for time to be spent together. We tend to tippy toe around the kitchen, because the young ‘uns are still asleep. They do not heed the siren song of the howling cat. When they are finally roused it is by the rising crescendo of plates and pans and NPR, combined with the heady aromas of coffee, maple syrup and bacon wafting up the hallway. They eventually stumble out of their rooms, ten-ish, to have their coffee poured by the doting parental barristas. Dishes are passed, towering infernos of smoked meats are constructed, and expensive imported fruits are inhaled. And then, whoosh! They evaporate and the kitchen is as decimated as if we had had an elaborate dinner party, minus the wine. Pots, pans, newspapers, dishes, glasses, butter knives, coffee spoons, and paper towel-lined plates litter the kitchen. Suddenly some wine would be nice.

I spend a good amount of time looking at the magazine covers in the grocery store check out lines. I am always eager to read about royal scandals, but occasionally I do flip through food magazines. The current Food Network Magazine has devoted the entire issue to bacon. I can only imagine: The Bacon Issue “108 Amazing Recipes”.

I could do their waffle recipe for a brunch, but I think I would leave out the fried chicken. Forget Mildred Pierce. There is not enough Diet Coke to get me frying chicken in the morning. https://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/food-network-kitchens/chicken-and-bacon-waffles.html

When the children were little, and I was hard pressed for creative dinner ideas, we would sometimes enjoy a “Breakfast for Dinner” night. I think our friends at Food 52 have some swell, adult crepes that would satisfy the urge for breakfast decadence at night. We could use those Chilean blueberries and the crepes would even be fancy enough to serve with apple wood smoked bacon at $8.99 a pound:
https://food52.com/recipes/16985-crepes-with-lemon-curd-blueberry-compote

It is just about lunchtime as I am finishing this. I think I am going to mosey into the kitchen and fry up a couple of slices of bacon, slice a tomato and toast some rye bread. I have heard my stomach distinctly growling as I have perused the Food Network photos. I think a nice BLT will hit the spot.

“There has never been a sadness that can’t be cured by breakfast food.” Ron Swanson, Parks and Recreation

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