That Sunday breakfast

(…so I realized I can’t spend all my time in righteous rage; I’m no help if I get consumed by it and cease to function.)

Back to mundane things today.

Some of the things that help us keep track of time—for example, the day of week—are the meals. A long time ago BCv* we decided to make Sunday breakfasts special. I mean, Sunday is special because we actually have time to make proper breakfast and eat it properly.

So, Sunday breakfast. My job to prepare, although that happens on other days of the week, too.

Three courses. I don’t offer choices because I know pretty well what each family member prefers. Until, of course, I get too smug and they surprise me.

For starters, four little platters of fruit. On Sundays, we try to be less boring, so today there were strawberries, blueberries, kiwi, and pink grapefruit. The grapefruit is my jam because I’m somehow convinced it helps to keep my blood pressure down. The strawberries were grown in-country (given the small size of Hungary, that more or less counts as local). With the rest, I can only hope they were grown and picked by equitable means.

Next up, main course. Easy: ham and eggs.** (No warm breakfast on any other days.) Except my freshly vegetarian daughter who takes hard boiled eggs. On the side, there are veggies (again, tomatoes grown in-country) and cheese. We try to get bread and pastries (brown bread, croissants, chocolate and other kinds of rolls) from a local bakery chain.

For Sundays and holidays, I used to prefer a smaller French bakery, run by closer relations—but with the lockdown, I can’t go there anymore, and they don’t deliver to our place. Too bad.

To finish, we have my trademark porridge.*** It’s quite regular, made from German oat flakes and (half-and-half) milk. However, I prefer to enhance the taste by adding a touch of salt and half a tablespoon of brown sugar (for four or five portions). It’s real Sunday comfort food, and I don’t even prevent the others from adding a bit of maple syrup—yes, you can get that in Hungary.

Drinks. No big deal. Kids prefer water, and that’s that. Grown-ups get fruit juice (boxed, rarely freshyl squeezed) and coffee with milk. For coffee, we use Nespresso (for shame, although we recycle the capsules). We got the Nespresso mostly to make busy weekday mornings easier—no need to clean the coffee maker every time.

That’s it. Oh yes, and it always gets eaten quicker than it’s prepared.

Finally, I must point out that this week’s breakfast highlight wasn’t the Sunday breakfast. On Saturday, I ventured out to the kitchen around 9 and found my daughter there… making her trademark American pancakes. That doesn’t happen every week, and tastes heavenly.

* Before the Coronavirus
** Proteins and fiber are paramount. For various reasons, we used to consult a dietitian who said for breakfast, we absolutely must eat something that’s absorbed slowly by our system. It’s not for losing weight but to keep blood sugar levels in check—if it gets too high or too low, that can even cause mood swings. (Know the word ‘hangry’?)
*** I’m still getting used to the oldish ceramic stove in our rented place. It has a knack for burning things.

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