Saturday, December 29, 2012
Chocolate Cake Forever
When I was growing up, my mother made us breakfast almost every morning.
Although certain regular menu items were more palatable than others, nevertheless, like the rising of the sun, breakfast was always there.
Sometimes, as a mother, I was great about getting an a.m. meal on the kitchen table.
Sometimes, I was not so great. It all depended on the circumstances of that day, month, year. When I was a full-time, stay-at-home mom, I did pretty well. When I worked a part-time job, a.m. cooking became spotty. When I was a working-full-time single mom, the offspring got cold cereal more often than not. If I put a good hot breakfast on the table during that phase of my life, I got downright prideful about it, and the children made shocked comments like, "What, breakfast? For me?"
Son Two built an entire comedy routine around the theme.
"There's this cool new thing, Mother, it's called breakfast. We should try it one of these mornings..."
At times, I did actually pull out the stops. I made almond/apple encrusted french toast, southwest-style scrambled eggs with homemade salsa, sharp cheddar, and seasoned sausage, nutmeg and cinnamon-infused pancakes, fruit and cream-filled crepes. Meat/egg/potato farmer's platters. When I'd get going, it was all there.
Regardless, we have Bill Cosby to thank for our favorite breakfast. On a summer road trip I took one year to Salmon, Idaho, as a fifteen-year-old, I stayed at a family's home that loved the video, Bill Cosby: Himself." Within the video was the secret of life, or so I thought at the time. Mr. Cosby talked about feeding his children breakfast. Milk, flour, eggs...chocolate cake. He argued that chocolate cake was a perfectly balanced breakfast, with carbs, dairy and protein. This left a deep impression on me.
Fifteen years later, I was reciting this food rationale to my smarty-pants children, who weren't at all buying it. They and I both knew what a chocolate cake breakfast really was.
The 'Bad Mother' Breakfast.
Now more honestly named, we got creative. Brownies, cookies, last night's pizza. As long as it got sloshed down with a little milk, we were good to go. Nutritionists would be horrified. My own mother would be horrified. But years later, after all of the breakfasts I've made for my kids (and some of them were really pretty fabulous), guess which morning meals we all remember the most? That's right. You won't catch my son saying, "Hey, remember that one ridiculously delicious omelette you made me once? The omelette with the crumbled bacon bits, baby spinach leaves and the feta?"
Nope.They remember the 'Bad Mother Breakfasts'.
They remember the breakfasts that made the memories.
*For breakfast ideas (in case you're fresh out) click here.
Or, let them eat cake.
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