The Best Part of Waking Up…

An ode to breakfast

It’s darker than normal.

The clouds are heavy. I can hear the rain gently tapping against the window, as if trying to wake me but not my neighbors. The heater has stopped humming but I can still feel its warmth embracing the room. It’s conditions like this that lead to lazily lounging and Netflix binging.

But I’ve already been up for half an hour.

Irish butter slowly melts over a low heat as I slice onions. Water gradually rolls to a boil for pour-over coffee. Polenta is simmering, looking a tad dry already. A splash of cream and it’s perfect.

The rainbow chard is beautiful this time of year. Stalks separated from leaves, chopped and tossed in with the onions. Such fantastic, vibrant color. It will pop against the deep, rich green of Dino kale.

A quick scan through the fridge for what will make this meal complete.

Chorizo? Not today. I have too much to do. That would just put me back to sleep. Goat cheese? Ah, yes. goat cheese. I crumble a small handful into the thickening polenta. Magnificent.

The onions are translucent and my water is evaporating rapidly. I reach over and press a button to create one of my favorite sounds.

“WHHHRRRRRRRHHHHRRRHRHRRRRR!”

Oh, coffee grinder. Where would I be without you? The dark, aromatic beans are transformed to powder in a matter of seconds. Magical, magical powder. Coffee seems like something sold in the back of a comic book in the 50s.

“Do you want to feel invincible in the morning? Do you yearn to feel as if you could take on the world? Now you can with COFFEE! Just add water!”

Polenta is ready, coffee is dripping and my greens are wilted. Now comes the toughest decision I’ll face today: sunny or poached? Scrambled is for suckers and five-year olds. I need that rich yolk which, once broken, flows like yellow-orange lava, gradually engulfing all beneath it.

A quick salt to the polenta and the veggies and they’re ready to serve. More butter into the pan and a crack of the egg. The white spreads, forming waving edges. Black pepper and a little paprika sprinkled on for color, then cover to let the white set.

The coffee is finished. Have to squeeze every last drop out of the grounds. Lift the cover on the egg. Gorgeous. Slide it atop the greens — layering colors and flavors — building a tower of deliciousness.

I rummage through a decent collection of hot sauces. I reach for the homemade salsa and gently spoon it over the egg. More color, more flavor.

Steam is emanating from the plate as I take in the sight. It’s so majestic, so beautiful. It’s more than the first meal of the day. It is art. Fresh ingredients my tools, the plate and the palate my canvas.

The rain has let up. The clouds are still thick, but I can’t see. The windows are steamed over, as if to keep me from peering outside, forcing my focus toward the plate. The first bite warms my insides. A more comforting warmth than any amount of blankets could provide.

It’s days like this that lead to lazily lounging. But not for me. I have breakfast to make.