On Brinner

Breakfast for dinner tonight. I'm making oeufs, and John is making a new waffle recipe.

It's been a food centric, and a little hectic, weekend: Instructions to a friend on how to make a cake Thursday, homemade pizza Friday, friends over for dinner Saturday, Food Writing class at CulinAerie this afternoon, fixing the broken handmixer this evening (but not permanently - I see a replacement in my future). The upcoming days will be busy (job applications and possible interviews) and food-centric (Mardi Gras!) as well. Nothing says, "Chill with a hot meal" like brinner.

John always makes breakfast. I never skip it, but I usually have cold cereal, or a grapefruit, or at most, a little oatmeal. Whenever breakfast is made in the morning in our house, it's John that's in the kitchen, spooning precise amounts of batter into the waffle iron, trying to flip the pancakes or turn the eggs, grating cheese for omelets, or sliding a pan of bacon into the oven. While I will make muffins, or banana bread the night before, he loves to wake up, and brew coffee for himself and tea for me, and start the meal.

I would write something mushy about complementary skills and true love, but really, my waffles are ready, and I'd rather eat the results of those skills and that love than write about them any day.