When I was a girl, I usually ate cereal or toast for breakfast. Pop Tarts and chocolate instant breakfast were a treat that arrived in my high school years. On Sunday mornings, dad would make scrambled eggs. The smell drifted under my door and I would climb deep under the bed-clothes. I did not like eggs.
In college, I moved into an apartment and found that smelly things like eggs and canned tuna were very reasonably priced. Suddenly they became staples in my diet. But green things – no. I just could not understand my friends who were choosing to become vegetarians. When I would go home for family dinners, my mother shook her head as I pushed the peas and beans around on my plate without eating a bite.
If only mom could see me now. My day begins with green – green juice, poached eggs on a bed of kale or broccoli, spinach, asparagus, edamame. I love breakfast.
I have had wonderful breakfasts in cities from San Francisco to Edinburgh. In Uganda we learned that the chickens are so poorly fed that the yolks do not turn yellow. I settled for oatmeal and bananas. I had a disappointing breakfast at a little, highly recommened cafe in New York city last summer. But my favorite breakfast day is Sunday, when there is a bit more time before we leave the house. I pull out my simple, white bowl and tops my greens with bacon, kimchee, and a perfectly poached egg. And somehow, I don’t even notice the smell anymore.
Linking up today with Think Write Thursday.