A good friend of mine told me the other day that he doesn’t like breakfast. He’s a freak. But I’ve forgiven him. Only because I love him. But I also love breakfast and think everyone should love breakfast. In fact, you might say I’m a breakfast connoisseur.
Everyone has thoughts on what makes a good breakfast. Fruit is always a winner. Cereal is top for the quick fix. Heaven only knows how many times I’ve drunk a bowl of cereal before rushing out the door in hope of catching the bus. Ultimately though, eggs are king. Maybe it’s because they are the source of life, but they seem to have an amazing healing quality. And of course, there are so many ways in which to prepare them; Fried, Poached, Soft-boiled, Hard-boiled, and Omelette – Just to name obvious ones. The great thing of course is that every way of preparation seems to encompass a different taste – all of them taste seemingly wonderful.
Everyone has their favourites. If I wish to impress a guest, then my speciality poached eggs are on the agenda. They could quite possibly be the best poached eggs this side of London. Ordinarily though, it’s boiled eggs. Simple and easy to prepare, you’ll aim for soft but it’s no tragedy if they come out hard, they’ll always taste great.
Here in the UK we have Bacon & Eggs, or Full English Breakfast as it’s most commonly known. I’ve never been a patriotic soul, but you have to say the English breakfast is definitely up there with the best. For ‘tis the breakfast designed for the drinking nation. It’s got all the salts, sugars & protein your body needs to replace after a night of frolics and merriment. Its real appeal though, has to be it’s ‘All Day’ quality, encouraging all those waking late from a drunken stupor to rejoin society. No matter if it be past lunchtime, there is no shame. I, Myself, and a few of my compadres could actually claim that a ‘Full English’ has saved our lives on numerous occasions. Dramatic for sure, but there’s no underestimating its binding strength. Accompanied with a good ol’ cup of tea, the English breakfast sends you on your way ready to attack the world (Or rock out with your cock out if you were).
So, yes, definitely ‘Up there’ with the best. But I have found that other cultures also have it sussed. In Paris, I awoke from my wine-fuelled dreams to discover the sleek and sultry French breakfast; Coffee, croissant, bread, butter, chocolate, more bread and cigarettes. This may seem grotesquely rich and a little unhealthy, but I assure you, waking to the vibrant sounds and sweet smells of Paris, there is nothing better suited. It is the breakfast of bohemians. Of Lovers.
I can never smoke or drink as much coffee as the Parisian sunshine requires, so I make up with huge consumption of their delicious bread and rich butter. With the whistlings of Jazz in the ears, breakfast in Paris does not send you out ready to attack the world, but merely ready to seduce and make love to it.
Our German neighbours have many more dietary needs in common with the English then most people give credit for. They too like their beer. They too need those morning replenishments. But, they are, unsurprisingly, much more organised. My mornings in the Bavarian hub of Munich were always greeted by a sore head. Never was a breakfast so vital. I was treated to an array of cold meats. An array of cheese. An array of bread. And when I say ‘Array’, I mean ‘ARRAY’. Soft cheese, hard cheese, mongrel cheese. Salami this, salami that. White bread, brown bread, mix bread, salt bread. An array. And complimenting this array would be jams, boiled eggs, fresh fruit and yoghurt. Quite frankly the hangover never stands a chance. I almost feel sorry for the poor little bugger.
If an English breakfast sends you out ready to attack the world, and a Parisian breakfast sends you out wanting to make love to the world, then the Bavarian breakfast makes you want to attack the world, then fuck it, leaving it a quivering wreck whilst you go out for a beer with the lads. And bloody good beer it is too.
I think it’s a fair assessment to say I believe in the qualities of breakfast. I can never understand why people don’t mind going without breakfast. Are they not human? If I go without, my body doesn’t function properly. Maybe I’m not human. Like a car, you need to tick me over to get me running smoothly for the rest of the day.
No, I am human. If you don’t have to have breakfast you’re a freak. And I’ll quite happily tell you you’re a freak. Doesn’t mean I don’t love you. It just means you’re a freak. You can run on empty. You scare me.
In conclusion, peoples’ lives are so busy, breakfast these days can be anything; a glass of water, a slice of week old pizza, a chocolate digestive, or, in my case, anything that can be consumed whilst rushing to a destination. It just isn’t plausible that we can ‘enjoy’ breakfast every day. I understand that. But, if you can, and when you can, make time and enjoy breakfast. Enjoy the toast. Enjoy the jam. Enjoy the eggs. Enjoy the morning radio. Enjoy the couple arguing in the flat above. Enjoy the post you open even though it’s not addressed to you and addressed to a previous tenant but you open it all the same just in case in contains money. Enjoy the tea. Enjoy Tony the Tiger. Enjoy your nakedness. Enjoy the porn. Breakfast is awesome. What’s for lunch?
One thought on “Breakfast. It’s GRRRRREAT!”
You’ve never made Dow or me poached eggs. What is he doing wrong?