Breakfast out on the town isn't always all that it's cracked up to be, as a recent experience of ours showed. 'How are your scrambled eggs?,' I asked. 'Honestly? I thought they'd be fantastic, but they're disappointing,' Peter replied. 'How's the bircher muesli?,' he asked. 'Well, it's fresh enough and the apple on top is crisp, but it's completely lacking taste and is more like pulped cardboard than good bircher muesli,' I responded. 'Disappointing too, considering the $12.50 price tag!.'
'Dearest Blueberry Dutch Baby Pancake, I have a question to ask of you and it is simply this: where have you been all my life?!'
In the 1970s, my very best girlfriend was a lass I had worked with for years, and one of the things I liked about her was that she was just as quirky as me, if not more. We shared a love of food and our lunchtimes turned into 'hunt and gather' adventures of sorts, that included walking miles for whatever flavours took our fancy that day.
Sunday at our place was a relaxed tracksuit, newspapers and blueberry hotcakes kinda day. We'd both been a little unwell through the week and, although some (kind) invitations had come our way, we declined politely and relished in having a day indoors all to ourselves.
I believe there's not enough down time these days and it's little wonder that so many people are tired much of the time, myself included. It's all crazy busy and go, go, go. Of course, it's fun to get out, socialise, see friends, meet new people and do things; but it's also ever so fine and dandy to simply kick back and have a pyjama day.
'I'm making toasted bread with garlic, would you like some too, pipike (little chicken),' my mother would ask when I was little. 'Nagyon finom! (it's very delicious)', she added enticingly, as she rubbed a clove of garlic over the thick slices of hot, freshly toasted continental bread.
Sometimes she would spread cultured butter on the bread beforehand. Remember olive oil wasn't readily available in the 1960s. In those days olive oil was something your mother bought it from the chemist. It was gently warmed and a few drops would be popped into your ear to ease the pain of an earache. It worked. And is still recommended by doctors and nurses today.
In summer, mum would slice some of my father's homegrown Oxheart tomatoes onto the toasted bread (or Pirítós as we knew it), making sure she added just the right sprinkle of salt and pepper. The tomatoes were just picked, still warm from the sunshine and simply bursting with flavour!
Breakfast: Scrambled Eggs with Truffle
Cooking and writing have been a lifelong passion.
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- Liz Posmyk
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NB: I use Australian standard measuring cups and spoons in my recipes.