Monday, March 30, 2009

Sunday Breakfast

The unmistakable sound of bacon frying in a heavy black iron skillet. Not the fast pop pop and sizzle sounds of bacon a blaze while cooking on high, but bacon on a slow deliberate flame, somewhere between medium and low on a old gas stove. Bacon that while cooking sounds like a soft steady spring rain.

The sound of an old coffee pot, the gurgle and clanking sounds of fresh coffee brewing compliments the sound of bacon being cooked. Add the sudden zip and pop of an old metal toaster that never seems to toast the bread to perfection no matter how you set the dial and you have all the proper sounds that signal the preparation of breakfast is moving along at a comfortable pace.

This Sunday morning there is no rush, but the sky has cleared after what seems like a week of rain and there is work to be done, yet for now the only concern is to turn the eggs without breaking the yokes. I like mine over easy if I'm successful, otherwise I'll settle for scrambled. The margin for error in egg turning is very small and I have come to accept my inadequacies and lack of a steady hand required for proper and successful egg turning in a cast iron skillet.

I opened the french doors on the deck about 6 AM and the sounds of natures wildlife have filled my kitchen non stop. I often trade the intrusion of insects and rain for the sounds of the outdoors. I like a quiet breakfast, but there is nothing quiet about a Carolina Low Country morning, as nature comes alive with joyous songs of a new spring day.

My breakfast is without loud buzzers or the electronic dings of modern appliances and heaven forbid the static noise of morning news shows spiked with the jarring assaults of car dealer commercials that attack my quiet sanctuary.

Breakfast on Sunday is a reward for most days when breakfast is skipped or breakfast that is really a business meeting in disguise.

Hotel breakfasts are only acceptable if they are before 6:30 AM, before the crowds of tourists invade the quiet, or served in your room at the Four Seasons, anytime.

But the best breakfast is still served at home, where cooking a few extra few slices of bacon is always a good idea since a certain uninvited Labrador Retriever named Madison tends to show up once the smell of bacon, eggs and fresh coffee fills the morning air.

Now that all the tasks that make breakfast are done there is just one question left:

Would you like some scrambled eggs with your bacon Madison?

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Ahh, lazy Sunday breakfasts! Only I'll take mine in the mountains!

I can smell the bacon and coffee, a more comforting smell I can't think of!