breakfast

(I’m doing this 30-day thing  — a month of mindful pleasures. The organizer has posted a list of things for the whole month, and the idea is to take a break from blogging and just post a picture of the thing. I’ll probably be writing here but participating with the daily photo on Instagram. Among other things, this means a daily post!)

Breakfast is my absolutely favorite meal of the day. It’s my favorite meal to eat out, too. It’s my favorite meal for someone to make for me, and it’s even my favorite meal to make for myself. When we go on our marvelous vacations, even though he never ever eats breakfast my husband indulges my love of it and eats with me. When we’re in SEAsia, the breakfasts can be amazing, like these:

Egg hoppers in Galle, Sri Lanka -- so amazing
Egg hoppers in Galle, Sri Lanka — so amazing
a huge spread in Turkey, wonderful every morning
a huge spread in Turkey, wonderful every morning (oops, not SEAsia!): cucumbers and tomatoes and fresh feta, some covered with fresh herbs, and cracked olives and walnuts and honey and thick yogurt and fresh juice and very thick coffee
breakfast on the beach in  Hoi An, Vietnam -- Marc was bringing me some fruit and coffee
breakfast on the beach in Hoi An, Vietnam — Marc was bringing me a plate piled with luscious fruit , a fabulous croissant (very Vietnamese, that), and coffee. This was our first trip and I had a bad camera and didn’t take a picture of the food, which I remember so clearly.
amazing breakfast at Hotel Amazing, in Nyaung Shwe, Myanmar
amazing breakfast at Hotel Amazing, in Nyaung Shwe, Myanmar. That noodle dish made me cry in pleasure every morning. Very soft boiled eggs on the side of the bowl, so luscious.

In 2005, our first trip to Vietnam, we stayed at an incredible place in Nha Trang that offered so many kinds of breakfasts, including traditional Japanese, for some reason. We didn’t stay there enough days to try them all, but I sure tried my best.

I’m from a long line of breakfast folk, including my mean old grandmother, Delma Faye (we called her Mamo). Mamo made the very best biscuits in the whole wide world, and I think she could make them in her sleep. I can close my eyes and see her hands making them, see her long fingers lightly kneading the dough before she cut them. Since my hands look exactly like hers, it’s very easy to remember. Her table always had homemade peach jam and fig preserves, and blackstrap molasses, and good butter. She’d make sausage and sausage gravy (I’m killing myself here), but it was her biscuits I couldn’t get enough of. And then my beloved Big Daddy had his own favorite breakfast: a big wedge of cornbread crumbled into a tall glass of sweet milk, with a fat sliced-up tomato on the side. Coming from those people, how could I not love breakfast!

These days my daily breakfast at home in Austin is a thick, creamy green smoothie. Every morning when I first open my eyes, I think about it and can’t wait to go make it. I’ve been drinking this for almost two years and I haven’t yet wanted to try a different one: almond milk, a banana, a couple of handfuls of baby spinach, and some frozen peaches. Whirl that around in the VitaMix and then the happy groaning and moaning commences.

it's really that color! no filters or editing of that photo
it’s really that color! no filters or editing of that photo

So even though I can get right down with a biscuit, or an omelette, or sunnyside-up eggs with thick slices of toast, or pancakes (with real maple syrup only please), or cornbread in milk, or anything else, that smoothie makes me jump out of bed and run to the kitchen. I smile the whole time I’m drinking it, it’s a kind of luscious magic.

And always, of course, with a pot of dark French press coffee.

Are you as crazy about breakfast as I am? I’d sure love to hear about yours. 🙂