I went over to see new commenter Ingrid because I thought a friendly comment from me would be polite. Instead I saw this post of hers and thought, "wow, what a great idea for a meme." So I stole the meme and ran back here. Sorry, Ingrid!
What's your favorite breakfast? Two eggs over easy, with bacon and an English muffin. A little unsalted butter on the English muffin, but only if I'm not feeling fat. Otherwise, dry. A small glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, and a hot caffeinated beverage--which one would would depend on where I am.
You see, the tea is better at home, and the coffee is better when I'm out. Those places that bring you a small pot of hot, not boiling water and a tea bag, in the inimitable words of
Kim from all consuming, "shit me to tears." And restaurants have half & half, which is delicious, but which is strictly off-limits chez Buxom, probably because we'd drink it. You know, instead of milk. Then again, I could end up in a restaurant with some crappy old coffee that's been sitting on a burner for way too long.
The caffeine thing must be figured out
on a case-by-case basis, is what I'm saying here.
Also! No home fries or any other kind of potato. Let's be real, people; restaurants just do that to fill you up for cheap. And potatoes are for
dinner.
If you were breakfast, what would you be? Chipped poppy on toast with a side of Barbara Walters, and if you don't understand that allusion, I don't blame you at all. In fact, you have my sympathy.
Egg Yolks: runny or solid? Runny, unless the eggs are supposed to be hard boiled, in which case, runny yolks are weird and scary.
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And now, a spot of didacticism. As in detective fiction, there are degrees of boiling in eggs. We have hard-boiled detective fiction, where everyone is tough and heartless, like Mickey Spillane, and we have soft-boiled detective fiction peopled with lovable protagonists where sometimes nobody even gets murdered, like Agatha Christie or Dorothy L. Sayers. Well, between soft-boiled and hard-boiled there is a stage, like Janet Evanovich or Robert Parker, where the outside is tough, but the yolk remains soft, humorous, and erotic, like a description of Stephanie Plum getting it on with Ranger.
Now, the French have a term for this kind of thing, which is
oeufs mollets, which are eggs boiled for about eight minutes, until the white is firm, but the yolk is still soft. The French like to embed them in chaud froids garnished with truffles and little designs cut out of demi-glace, or put them in a salade compose. They are exquisite, but pretty much unavailable in the United States, hence the lack of a term for them on this side of the pond.
And this explains the popularity of Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum novels. We don't get enough oeufs mollets on our plates, so we make do with tough-on-the-outside, soft-in-the-middle detective fiction.
Oh, and apparently the Brits call this a "coddled egg." But that is far too namby-pamby-sounding a name for a rugged American egg, for heaven's sake.
Thus ends the digression.
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Weekend breakfast: healthy or indulgent? I don't really want to hear about your healthy breakfast, but what is your favorite indulgent one? Indulgent would be Eggs Benedict washed down with champagne, and an extra English muffin to mop up any leftover Hollandaise sauce, if any, or to be eaten with apricot preserves.
Bacon or sausage? Why? Bacon. Because sausage is greasy and often too peppery, and it's made of anonymous, highly-suspicious ingredients, like pig ears, veal jowls, and pope's noses.
And because sausage is used in weird food combinations found in restaurants I avoid, like McDonald's Egg McMuffins and Denny's Sausage Biscuits and Gravy.
But mostly because I like to eat sausages at lunch or dinner.
With potatoes.
