I love breakfast. It is my absolute favorite meal of the day.
It is best when I’m sipping strong coffee, eating freshly-baked pandesal with edam cheese or a good runny sunny side up and reading the morning’s news from Twitter or the Huffington Post.
It is also best when it’s a beautiful morning and I’m eating with the semi-awake, coffee-groping family.
It is even better than lunch, when one mostly appreciates the precision of fast food before the lunch break’s over. Even better than dinner, the meal with the always inconsistent headcount.
Contrary to what is commonly done, I believe that breakfast is a meal that should be eaten slowly. Savored like a Parisian savors a croissant (God’s manna from heaven!) and espresso in a cafe. Breakfast should not be hurried, and should not be shunned.
To eat breakfast slowly is to let the world wait a little longer.
Breakfast is the time when every member of the family is together in the home. It is that limbo where everyone is awake but the day hasn’t technically started. It is a meal that is almost always prepared and eaten at home. It is, in my opinion, magical.
Breakfast also features some of the best food. The beauty of a salty soft boiled egg with toast. The simple delight of eating a hotdog sandwich with mustard, pickles and sriracha that jolt you to a higher level of awareness. The perfection of sinangag, egg and tuyo with kape barako. The warmth of champorado made with tablea tsokolate and tuyo on a rainy day, knowing that the person who made it woke up especially early to soak the malagkit rice on a day when beds become possessive lovers. Some of the best food I have eaten out of the country were eaten at breakfast: That hot, filling braised beef noodle soup from Singapore. Those absolutely delicious bread from Hong Kong’s corner bakeshops. I long for a runny sunny side up eaten with yu cha kui, freshly fried in China.
Wake up early; sit down for a moment. Relax, the rush has not yet started. Wait, sit back down. No fast food for breakfast, their coffees are horrible, and are they seriously calling those meat? Read the morning paper and sip a cup of good coffee. Enjoy the quiet sounds as the world starts to get up and go. Screw brunch. Brunch just wishes that it could be a quarter of the meal that breakfast is. That poser.