I am not a breakfast person. Yes, I love pancakes and waffles and grits and bacon and scrambled eggs with cheese, but I really like having it for supper or a late brunch instead. Maybe it’s because when morning comes around, I’d rather be asleep than eating, but I just don’t feel hungry in the morning. Ever.
It’s not something new. I’ve never liked breakfast. My grandfather used to lure me into eating by making me pancakes shaped like animals and squiggles or little silver dollar ones and mostly chocolate gravy to go over them. Of course, since I was a notoriously picky and meager eater, those pancakes always had Cream of Wheat as a secret ingredient to get more nutrition into me.
Later on, at the insistence of my parents during high school, I learned that I could drink a glass of Instant Breakfast and get around having to eat. Of course, I was still picky. I didn’t like it unless it was whipped up in the blender so there weren’t little grains of it in the milk. I know. It was sad.
When I went to college and was on my own, breakfast just kind of stopped. With no one there to make me eat it, I didn’t. And that probably wasn’t such a good thing since I existed mainly on Sweetarts and diet Sprite at that point. But still, I was okay. I survived.
Later when I was cooking and eating like a normal human being and feeding a child to boot, I tried to do breakfast. Pretty quickly that turned into making breakfast for Patric but still not eating it myself.
But this was a breakfast morning. We actually drove an hour to have breakfast this morning. To some degree that gave me time to wake up. But still, I just don’t like eating before noon. It just seems wrong. This was worth it, though.
We went to Big Bad Breakfast this morning. For those who haven’t been there, it’s a little diner-style cafe in a strip mall in Oxford, MS. But John Currence owns it and makes his own bacon and sausage and many other delicious things from scratch. For me, breakfast turned out to be a bruleed grapefruit half, some cheese grits, and half of a pepper-flecked biscuit. It was good. It was really good.
Am I now a breakfast convert? No. But for an every-once-in-a-while sort of thing, breakfast isn’t all that bad after all.