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Breakfast suffers from the “shoulds”.  First of all, it is important to eat some sort of breakfast. We don’t feel guilty to miss dinner, but skipping breakfast is a shame on you.  Breakfast suffers from political/nutritional correctness (more so than other meals) of what you should eat.  You are supposed to eat  healthy, which means whole grains and fiber.  Gone are the daily sit down types of breakfast consisting of eggs, pancakes, and (shudder) breakfast meats. For one thing no one has the time.  Most folks tend to eat cereal. Breakfast cereal used to be sweet, tasty, and colourful, but in time they have evolved into high fiber things resembling lawn clippings.

Breakfast is mundane. You eat the same thing day in and day out.  This keeps you from dawdling; you don’t have to think about it.  My work day breakfast is a small glass of juice and a mug of oatmeal.  My protein source is one egg scrambled with 1/2 cup of egg whites, or if I am in a hurry, 3 hard boiled eggs ‘to go’ with 2 yolks discarded.  Yawn.

In contrast, Sunday breakfast is a treat. It has all the pleasures of a meal lacking in its Monday through Saturday counterparts.  We even coiff the name to ‘brunch”. Breakfast is cooked, not poured from a box.  The aroma of cooking compliments the many gustatory pleasures. Sometimes there is some booze, a cap of vodka thrown into the tomato juice or sparkling wine in the OJ,  just enough to give it ‘umami’ and the meal a sense of celebration.  A brightly coloured fresh fruit bowls balance the guilt over the greasy things And if we are really sensual, there may be a slice or two of bacon, the smell of which remains one of life’s greatest pleasures.

The ideal breakfast has sunlight on it from an open window. Perhaps breakfast is served outdoors. There is a pot of proper tea (no rubbish) to wash it all down. One sits with a loved one without the sense of having to rush through this and get to work. And if all goes well, the tidy up can wait as you return to bed, hand in hand, to finish.

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