Is a mundane blog about breakfast really just a mundane blog about breakfast? Yeah.

Okay — about six months ago, we got chickens. Six very cute hens that lay eggs for our breakfast and run around the yard in the afternoons.

I had a fear (what else is new?) that the dog and chickens can’t be friends. I was wrong. They play and have lots of fun together.

It’s not like I live on a farm. These are urban chickens.

And I’ve had fresh eggs for breakfast every day.

I won’t say that I’ve mastered omelette making, but I’m getting there. Nor have I mastered the frying of an egg over light with Pam spray without it ever breaking — but I do okay.

One of big treats growing up was when Mom made scrambled eggs with salami. So yesterday I got some salami and revisited my past, scambling eggs with salami. It wasn’t quite as good as Mom’s. I think she might have used real butter in addition to the grease that’s already in the salami (there was no talk of cholesterol back then). But it was a pretty  great breakfast.

This morning, we had no bread in the house. That’s a good thing. Bread is my weakness. Every time I take action to lose weight, no matter what system I use, it always amounts to the same thing: I love bread and eat way too much of it.

I reacted to our bread shortage by going on a bit of a search through the kitchen cabinets. I noticed, in our cupboard, two large containers of oats — leftover from the days before we got the chickens. All these months with daily eggs has given me a one-dimensional view of breakfast.

Can oats sit around for six months and still be okay?


This reminded me of my father. He loved oatmeal and I have a childhood memory of him teaching me how to fix it.

Oats are filling — perfect if you’re hungry. Just a smattering in the bottom of the pot renders a huge bowl once cooked.

So today was a departure. Maybe we’ll have eggs and salami for dinner…

breakfast (flash fiction)

Something was different. They looked like eggs. They tasted like eggs. The bowl of grits looked like an ordinary bowl of grits. The toast was plain toast like many other pieces of plain toast.

And yet, after the fork touched the food, before reaching the mouth, the color of breakfast shifted, like the shadow from a cloud passing over the eggs.  A pasty hue.  A ropey taste that wafted and then concentrated toward the glands.  An anxiety. Nerves in the upper chest, rising into the neck.eggs

It was the calmity of death. Sitting, heavy, on the fork.

“What’s the matter?”


“I didn’t say anything.”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“You’re acting like it.”

“I’m not!”

“There. See?”

“Stop talking.  Nobody asked you to come here.”

“It’s that space in your heart. You still can’t fill it.”

“I know.”

“You need to.”

“That’s my business.”

“That’s too much salt.”

“Leave me alone.”

One egg was enough.  No grits.  Only half a piece of toast.

first breakfast of the year

Here are the ingredients. Eggs, four kinds of cheese, mushrooms, onions, and garlic.

Did not take a picture of the omelette.  It tasted great, but looked a little deformed.  It broke apart when I removed it from the pan.

I’m guessing 2011 will be much the same.  It will break apart.  But I’ll still share it.  And eat it.  And it will taste great.

breakfast ingredients
breakfast ingredients

Raisin Bran. Light vanilla soy milk. Pecans. Walnuts.

cerealAn excellent breakfast.

Raisin Bran. Light vanilla soy milk.  Pecans.  Walnuts.

Rather than the usual topping for cereal — bananas (or strawberries when they are in season) — I discovered nuts.

Just last week.

A sprinkle of nuts turns a bowl of raisin bran into a much more decadent, designer cereal.

Wish I had thought of this sooner.