After a long run this morning through the cool Florida sunshine, tracing the course of a bridge that connected several islands between the mainland and Miami Beach, jogging alongside the azure waters that sparkled and scintillated in the wake of yachts and jet skis, Grace and I returned home, intent on one thing: breakfast.
Sunay, glorious Sunday, the land of Brunch, the home of everything good and delicious and langorous and scrumptious and good! Whereas breakfast is an afterthought every other day of the week, on Sunday it is a ritual, an observance, a benediction to living well, to taking the moment as it comes and to savor and enjoy it as much as one can.
I entered the kitchen, rolled up my sleeves, and planned my attack with the meticulous attention of a general assembing his armies.
First, the organic waffles from the freezer, set aside to warm as I set the toaster oven to heat to 350 degrees. Then a pot of water to boil, and the ingredients for scrambled eggs assembled on the counter: 4 huge sunrise eggs, a tub of organic yogurt, cayenne pepper, salt, and a block of yellow cheese.
On our breakfast table, set and ready for the waffles: the canadian maple syrup, the nutella, a jar of marmalade, a jar of blueberry spread, our decadent and sunflower yellow butter.
To begin! I cracked the four eggs into a bowl, put in two dollops of yogurt, a liberal dash of cayenne and salt, and then scraped a heaping of cheese over it all. The frying pan was already heating up. The pot of water was beginning to bubble. Things were coming together.
Into the toaster oven I slid four waffles. Then I poured the egg mixture into the pan after coating it with olive oil, and poured our freshly roasted coffee beans into our grinder. One hand pressing the grinder into whirring dervish coffee bean death, I took up a wooden spoon with the other and gave the eggs a light stir as they began to lighten and solidify.
Ground coffee into the french press, and ah–! The aroma of the coffee bean, rich and earthy with hints of tobacco and sunlight in well loved libraries. The pot of water was at a rolling boil, so I poured the water in, capped off the french press, then saw to the eggs. Stirred some more. Here’s my secret: don’t cook them all the way. Turn them over several times to scramble it, but don’t let the eggs dry out. The yogurt gives it a delicious, light body, while the cheese gives it that decadent texture and taste. And ah, the cayenne! If you don’t love cayenne, then you are dead to me, the world, your dreams and your hope of find happiness in life.
I take my cayenne pepper very seriously.
Plates on the table, eggs were ready, divided them up, set the pan aside. Grace was washing the fresh blueberries, so I took the waffles out, set them on the plates. Pressed that coffee press down, then poured into mugs with a little milk and raw agave nectar for that smoky taste.
A dab of butter on the waffles, liberal dose of maple syrup, sprinkle some blueberries, stir the coffee, lift the fork, take that first bite of eggs, and heaven, delirious, sinking, sunlight through the clouds ecstasy as you realize that everything has come to perfection at the same time, all at once, and now it lies on your plates, ready to be consumed at your pleasure, for you to delectate and devour as you will.
Eggs, waffles, coffee. So simple. So good. The freshest ingredients, a resounding hunger, the best and most beautiful of company, and my friends, you are indeed winnning at life.