The Breakfast King


Every once in a while, you act like 20-somethings and allow gym friends to buy you too many shots while watching awesome rock bands.  I was actually shocked at the amount of alcohol fitness people can consume (a lot more than me).  

In the morning, we remembered why that lifestyle never stuck in the first place.

But it’s nothing that rehydration and a plate of potatoes won’t cure.  I may be Queen of the Kitchen in my house, but I concede that DP is the Breakfast King.  I only give up possession of my kitchen space for him to prepare his many versions of eggs and home fries.  His omelettes are worthy of magazine covers.  He has mastered the ways of the cast iron skillet.

I don’t mind boosting his breakfast ego because it only improves the meal.

Friday night, while cooking turkey burgers, he broke his beloved slotted spatula.  Despite the loss, he was able to make perfect sunny-side up eggs and home fries with mushrooms, onions, bell peppers, and a hint of ginger to help soothe the stomach.

The only thing he has not mastered is cleaning up after himself.  It drives me insane, since he makes twice the mess I do.  My neurotic kitchen cleaning behavior is exacerbated after he’s been in there.


I am almost fully recovered.  To get over the last little hump, I look to my family’s go-to hangover cure for lunch: a nice bowl of pho with extra broth.  Luckily, I have reserved broth in the freezer and won’t have to spend hours making it.  Look at me, thinking ahead!  (More on pho broth in a future post.)


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