This one's for you, Dad
While I was busy showering and getting dressed this morning, the hubby lion sweetly fried me an egg, made me tea and toasted me some bread. The egg had been fried in wonderful little bits of crunchy garlic. Then, as I sat down, I had a vivid "you'll understand when you're older" moment. I was eating Dad's classic breakfast.
As a child I saw no breakfast joy beyond granola and milk, and would quietly shrug and roll my eyes at adults who thought boring things like toast was where it was at. Dad would break the yolk of his fried egg (and gross of all gross, it wasn't even cooked all the way!) and dribble it onto his toast like sauce which he apparently seemed to actually enjoy. I remember being completely miffed.
This morning, as I did the exact same thing with my egg and toast and devoured them with glee, I thought that the only thing that could top such a breakfast was that crazy fruit dad would eat all the time: a kiwi. I remember saying "What is that?" When I saw him peeling one out on the porch one morning. He told me and graciously offered me a bite. It was immediately apparent that this thing was not, repeat, NOT sweet like ALL fruit should rightly be. It was sour and had seeds that crunched and made my tongue fizz! Seriously. What were adults about anyway? Those people will eat anything! Like cilantro! ugh!
As luck would have it, I did have a kiwi sitting in the fruit bowl this morning, and instead of halving it and scooping out the fruit with a spoon like I usually do, I cut off the nubbin on the end and began to peel its fuzzy skin off in strips the way Pops does it. This one's for you, Dad. Children in my kitchen beware. You may think it's disgusting now, but you'll understand when you're older.
As a child I saw no breakfast joy beyond granola and milk, and would quietly shrug and roll my eyes at adults who thought boring things like toast was where it was at. Dad would break the yolk of his fried egg (and gross of all gross, it wasn't even cooked all the way!) and dribble it onto his toast like sauce which he apparently seemed to actually enjoy. I remember being completely miffed.
This morning, as I did the exact same thing with my egg and toast and devoured them with glee, I thought that the only thing that could top such a breakfast was that crazy fruit dad would eat all the time: a kiwi. I remember saying "What is that?" When I saw him peeling one out on the porch one morning. He told me and graciously offered me a bite. It was immediately apparent that this thing was not, repeat, NOT sweet like ALL fruit should rightly be. It was sour and had seeds that crunched and made my tongue fizz! Seriously. What were adults about anyway? Those people will eat anything! Like cilantro! ugh!
As luck would have it, I did have a kiwi sitting in the fruit bowl this morning, and instead of halving it and scooping out the fruit with a spoon like I usually do, I cut off the nubbin on the end and began to peel its fuzzy skin off in strips the way Pops does it. This one's for you, Dad. Children in my kitchen beware. You may think it's disgusting now, but you'll understand when you're older.