Breakfast is my favorite meal. If I could only have one meal a day, it’d be breakfast. I love it so much, I eat breakfast for dinner sometimes. We did that when I was a kid; it was easy and cheap … and delicious.
Now, I don’t like all breakfast foods. I’ve never cared for pancakes or waffles or French toast. They require maple syrup and that just results in a mushy, disgusting combination to me. As a kid, I tried them with honey and jelly, but that didn’t help. My family thinks I’m so picky, but I consider myself discriminating.
My favorite breakfast consists of eggs and potatoes. Of course adding bacon or ham doesn’t hurt. When I was a kid, my Mom made breakfast on the weekends which is where my love of eggs and potatoes began. Dad liked his eggs prepared just right: soft yolks with the whites cooked through. Over-easy, over-medium, depends on the restaurant … but my sisters and I learned real quick how to make those eggs just how Dad liked them. And that’s exactly how I like them today. But I love them scrambled, too – egg whites with mushrooms, spinach and tomatoes is just divine.
Of course, the Holy Grail of breakfasts is Eggs Benedict. I could eat it every day. My sister, Tracy, makes a great Eggs Benedict. And she makes fancy Hollandaise sauce from scratch. She learned the perfect recipe from my Stepmom, Phyllis. Me? I use McCormicks Hollandaise Sauce Mix or Aunt Penny’s in the can, cuz I’m lazy. Sometimes I just fry an egg for my Eggs Benedict, cuz who cares, I’m just going to shovel it into my mouth so fast I won’t be able to tell if the egg’s poached or fried. Yum.
If I’m at a restaurant with Tracy for breakfast, we’ll both order Eggs Benedict and we always ask for extra Hollandaise Sauce. When the server sets that fancy little pitcher of sauce down on the table, Tracy and I will lock into a staring match like gunslingers in the Old West to see who will grab it first. If I get to that little pitcher before her, I’m bound to pour the entire contents directly into my mouth.
Well, I should quit talking about Eggs Benedict because the only thing waiting for me for dinner tonight is a leftover piece of pizza. Lots of people love pizza for breakfast. Not me. In fact, I don’t want any kind of dinner for breakfast. When I was a kid, my Mom would threaten that if we didn’t finish our dinner plate, we’d eat it for breakfast. I found out once she wasn’t kidding. We were having meatloaf and mashed potatoes for dinner. I don’t know how I did it, but I put sugar on my mashed potatoes instead of salt. Simple mistake. Uh, big mistake. Mom didn’t care. She told me to finish those potatoes because the children in China were starving and they would love to have those potatoes. So I told her we should send the potatoes to them.
The next morning I sat there staring at my leftover plate of cold, sugary mashed potatoes while my sisters ate their Maple Brown Sugar Cream of Wheat. I think you know I love spuds, but not those. I don’t know how long I sat there, but my legs fell asleep three different times, and eventually Mom let me off the hook. But I learned a great lesson: don’t trust Mom when she says she’s prepared a lovely bowl of mashed potatoes and you don’t realize it’s really turnips until you’ve piled some on your plate. Oh, wait a minute, that’s a different story.