Posts Tagged ‘food’

breakfast of champions

A cool site: what breakfast is to different people.

Yay, I get to write about breakfast!

Breakfast is my favorite meal. So much so that sometimes I eat breakfast for lunch. Or dinner. That’s what diners are made for. You can eat breakfast any time you want. Hell, sometimes I will get tired of cooking the same old thing for dinner and I’ll just whip up a batch of my world famous (ok, house-famous) pancakes and some scrambled eggs and bacon and everyone’s happy.

But there’s something about breakfast out. Especially on a Sunday morning. It’s like Sunday mornings were meant for huge, greasy, high cholesterol, fatty, starchy artery clogging meals. You owe it to yourself. Your week was hard. The weekend sucked cause it rained the whole time. Monday is coming up. Let’s kill this bad week karma with food. Lots of it.

You might be thinking, well then you should go to the the All You Can Eat And Not Pass Out Buffet. But come on. Have you ever been to a Sunday morning breakfast buffet? I have. And I spent all my time just gawking at the people rather than eating. It’s not like I could get near the food, anyhow. I would have needed a tank and a small army to move those gluttons away from the biscuits and gravy. So I just had chocolate milk and jello and watched in horror as some 800 lb woman piled her plate up with bacon, sausage and ham and then poured white gravy and syrup all over it. It was Mount Heart Attack and she was about to climb it. Some little kid came up to her crying something about “mamma I need some orange juice,” but I think she ate him. Either that or he got swallowed up in the folds of her enormous house dress. Because he just disappeared. And I swore off buffets after that.

No, when I want a good breakfast, I go a good old New York Diner. Open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Never closed, not even on holidays. And they serve breakfast all the time. 3am on a Thursday and you’re dying for blueberry waffles or a Greek omelette? Hit the diner.

Diners have the usual stuff. Omelettes. Eggs. Bacon. Pancakes. Waffles. French Toast. Nothing too fancy. I usually get two eggs over easy, home fries, rye toast and well done bacon. Really, I don’t vary much. It’s what I like. Fortunately for me, I don’t go to the diner every day. I certainly don’t eat breakfast like that every day. It’s a compromise I made with myself. I can eat a really unhealthy breakfast on the weekend if I’m good during the week. Which works out anyhow, as who the hell has time for breakfast on a weekday? Usually, I wolf down a South Beach bar while I’m driving and supplement that with seven 20 oz coffees and, later, a handful of wasabi almonds that I hide in my desk drawer. Sure, what I really want is five an Egg McMuffin and six hash browns, but being face down on my desk at 8:30 am is not in my game plan.

If only the FDA didn’t constantly remind me what is bad for me. Ignorance is bliss. Ignorance is also 800 lbs and uses a Lark to get around, but it tastes so good. If life were perfect, the food pyramid would be the food pentagram and it would look like this:


I made that a long time ago when Dunkin Donuts still had scones. Damn DD for taking those off the menu. Now that was a breakfast. And honestly, I wouldn’t eat half the stuff on that pentagram. I mean, McDonald’s breakfast? Please. If I’m going to go all out I’m going to serve up my heart attack IHOP style. International House of Pancakes for the uninformed.

An IHOP breakfast is like a smörgåsbord of every fatty, unhealthy, artery clogging, delicious, orgasmic meal you will ever need. Your whole day is taken care of. Country griddle pancakes. Crab meat omelette. Swedish crepes. Rooty Tooty Fresh and Fruity. Yea, I know. I think the people at IHOP just get a kick out of making you say that. But…eggs. Bacon. Sausage. Pancakes with fruit. WITH FRUIT! And whipped cream. You’re getting like every single food group there. How can it be unhealthy? You are following the official food guidelines of the FDA!

Then there’s the stuffed French Toast. FOODGASM! Your mouth explodes in sensual, orgasmic pleasure when swallow a load of French Toast with cream cheese filling, sugar and whipped cream. Add a bunch of meat on the side – sausage, bacon, ham – and how the hell can you go wrong with this? Sure you’ll want to sleep the sleep of the dead about 30 minutes later and there will be fat leaking from your pores and your heart will feel like a fist is clenching it tight, but sweet jesus does it taste good. Wash it all down with an entire carafe of coffee a giant chocolate milk and you’ve had food that spanned the day. Breakfast, lunch and dinner all in one. You go home satisfied, fulfilled and bloated. You take off your pants and get back into bed and let your stomach expand with all the salt and fat you just filled it with. Sleep it off and dream about pigs and chickens chasing you through a field of blueberry bushes. When you wake up, it’s late Sunday afternoon and you need Tums and about six gallons of water, a magazine and the bathroom. But wasn’t it worth it?

Ah, 7:15am. Time for a yummy South Beach breakfast bar. I think I’ll live dangerously and have the peanut butter flavor today.

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food flashback

I don’t know why this popped in my head this morning, but I had a flashback to these boil-in-a-bag dinners my mother used to make. Slices of meat product and gravy in a plastic pouch, that you dropped in a pot of boiling water to warm up. Talk about gourmet cooking skills. Boil bag, cut open, dump foodstuff on plate. Serve with some kind of canned vegetable. Or just drop it all on a piece of bread and call it a hot open sandwich.

I don’t know who made these meals (maybe Birds Eye?) and I can’t seem to find anything about them, but I know they existed. I’m pretty sure one was a salisbury steak. One might have been some kind of sliced beef.

My mother was apparently a lazy cook. It’s not like she worked all day. She stayed at home playing Yahtzee and Pinochle and smoking cigarettes with her other jobless friends. Come dinner time, she was stop shaking her dice long enough to throw a couple of plastic bags in a pot and call it a meal, then prepare for a hard night of drinking fancy-named cocktails at the bowling alley.

Maybe that’s just the way people cooked in the 70’s. In a time when people thought a hot dog/bacon/beans casserole was a perfectly healthy dinner, I suppose a little boiled meat was downright nutritious.

Like I said, no idea why that popped into my head. But I am swearing right now in front of all of you that I will never make anything that disgusting and/or lazy for dinner.

Hamburger Helper doesn’t count, right? That stuff is food of the gods.

my dinner with spidey

Even Spidey knows.

(please note: these are not the same boil in a bag dinners that hikers use these days, or MREs. These are not dehydrated meals meant for survival. They were pieces of meatstuff soaked in glutenous gravy)

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