It used to be called 'the most important meal of the day'. I certainly grew up with exactly that in mind. Usually breakfast wasn't much: some scrambled eggs, toast, a cup of tea; but that fifteen or twenty minutes at the stove and at the table did so much good, it might have been a three-course meal. The feel of making and eating breakfast, of doing exactly what your body needs exactly right, is something anyone can appreciate.
The first meal of the day is when you fuel your body, order your thoughts, and prepare yourself for the workday ahead. How is all of that possible on the run? It's simply not, and the notion is ridiculous. And yet these days, the whole idea of breakfast been distilled to breakfast bars, protein shakes, and all manner of two-minute calorie dumps, masked with notions of 'efficiency' and 'productivity'. Much better to scarf down a calorie laden brick while ironing your powersuit and packing up your briefcase.
It may be because I work with food for a living, or perhaps it's because I was raised in the style of the Old Country; whether it's one of those, or something else entirely, I find the whole conception of the modern 'breakfast' revolting.
Any meal, no matter how small, should be both enjoyable and enjoyed. I'll take the extra time, because it's worth it.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)