On breakfast

I am not a breakfast person. I've never been a breakfast food person. As far as I am concerned, breakfast is coffee and that means that breakfast lasts from the time I wake up until about 4pm. Then it is dinner time. Two meals per day is the standard around here. Nickolas is endlessly perturbed by my odd eating habits and nicely asks that I please eat three times a day. I think he's worried about my brain starving or something, because there's no way I am going to suddenly waste away to nothing; my hips are evidence of this improbability. This is a huge difference between us. I can go twelve hours without getting hungry, while he will be ravenous every 4-5 hours, right on schedule. It's precious. I try to have something either ready for him to eat or only 5 minutes from prep to plate at all times so that I don't starve the poor man. Really, keeping him fed and smiling is one of my highest priorities in life.

Rather than going back to sleep this morning after he got up, I harnessed this wild child dog of mine and we walked him to the bus stop so he could start his commute. I think that maybe everyone won in this situation. I got to see my beloved boyfriend for 15 glorious minutes longer than I normally would in the mornings. He got to show his fellow commuters that he is allowed to kiss a strange-looking, sleepy girl with "guess what I did last night!" bedhead (it is ALWAYS this way. I have Medusa hair that cannot be tamed) and a weird mohawked dog. Penelope got to bark at a man, who immediately walked over to pet her and call her adorable. Win, win, win.

After said bon voyaging and goodbye kissing took place, Nelly and I ambled back to Terabithia for some coffee. I was standing there in the kitchen in my nightgown (which I wore to the bus stop, thank you very much! I just tuck that silly thing into my jeans and throw on a hoodie and no one is the wiser) with my silly ladybug latte mug in my hands to warm me up and all of a sudden I was STARVING. This rarely happens to me. So rarely that the only breakfasty things I own are some soy protein shake powder (shut it!) and some oatmeal of the lame variety. It's not even steel-cut, you guys. That instantly renders it cookie ingredient status rather than breakfasty nourishment status. Ugh.

 Looking around my kitchen, my despair grew at about the same rate as the decibel level of my growling stomach did: rapidly. Super lame, friends. Super lame. I have some eggs, yeah, but I am not really an eggy person. Eggs are for Nickolas. That man could live off of eggs and I would let him, so long as he ate some oatmeal to negate the cholesterol contributions of said eggs. So no eggs. I had no potatoes, as I used those last night in a frantic substitution for the jasmine rice that I had a mishap with two nights prior*. I was thinking I was pretty much out of options until I realized that there was still banana-carrot bread left over. It didn't sound very good by itself. I tire of things quickly. Again I was thinking that I was going to have to walk up to one of the cafes and beg someone for a bagel and then I realized that I *did* have breakfast stuff that was suitable.

 

Aforementioned silly ladybug latte mug represent!

Eggs + banana bread + a bit of butter = french toast. The best french toast. After chiding myself for taking 15 tummy-growling minutes to realize what I had to work with, I got to it. Standard french toast making with the only variant being the bread used. It was delightfully crunchy outside and soft and delicious inside and with a bit of cinnamon butter, it pretty much morphed into the perfect breakfast.

Don't mock my butter stars. They taste better this way.

Next time, I'd probably dry the bread out in the oven for a little bit if it was still as fresh as this stuff was, just for the sake of texture, but overall? Delicious princess banana breakfast. 100%. 

*Ok so when I was making sme delicious panang curry for lunch the other day, I may have filled my stovetop with jasmine rice after setting the bulk bag of said rice down on the stove and inadvertantly turning the wrong burner on. Bulk bag (I don't have canisters yet!) had a little hole melt in it and all of a sudden, a *plink, plink, plink* sound alerted me to my ridiculous predicament and I was able to turn the burner off immediately without any actual damage, save for 2lbs of raw rice nesting below the burner and under the stove lid. GRACEFUL. My talents shine sometimes, you guys.