My mother used to give us a choice for breakfast: We had to have either cereal or egg before going to school. Toast was optional and we had to have the juice she prepared, usually orange. It was that or not go to school; she made that very clear. Nobody argued with it.
I’m giving myself choices now.
I’m not one for eating the same breakfast, lunch or dinner every day. I need variety and usually end up eating leftovers from the night before. But that’s not always a good idea, because I eat more of leftovers wanting to get rid of them, than I do breakfast food.
For years after I left home I rarely ate breakfast, not caring much for cereal or egg.
In addition, I don’t like doing dishes first thing in the morning. I never eat cold cereal. I prefer not to cook breakfast, except maybe on the weekend. So, I consider smoothies. My choice is make a smoothie or make oatmeal?
The smoothie wins. I still have dishes to clean, but I’d rather wash a blender container and two glasses, than an oatmeal pan, cereal dishes, glasses and silverware.
- A friend of my mother gave her a tip on washing an oatmeal pan. In hot water it’s difficult, so use cold water. The sticky oatmeal releases easier from the pan when washed in cold water. Soaking it in cold water helps also.
For a while during COVID I lost interest in breakfast, but I’m back being hungry when I rise. A lot of calories in the morning sets me up for wanting more and more throughout the day. A smoothie helps carry me over to lunch knowing I’ve consumed all my body needs at that time.
Maybe for a few days I’ll have shakes and smoothies, then get tired of them and want something else. Just as I won’t have leftovers every morning, neither will I have a smoothie or shake every morning. Maybe some mornings just toast and juice. That’s actually what I preferred as a kid, but Mom wouldn’t have it. I could have toast, but I had to have either an egg or cereal with it.
I did not like cereal. I thought it smelled like a cow pasture. I also didn’t like eggs, because they had a sulphur odor when cooked. I didn’t like anything smelly. So usually, I’d fry an egg, only one, then break the yolk and spread it over the egg, cook it on both sides till dry without any crispies around the edges, then top it with a slice of American cheese, melt it, then smear it with ketchup so I couldn’t see or really taste the egg. Later in life I ate eggs in many ways and liked them – especially eggs Benedict. Now I have my own Potato Pierogi Benedict and I’m working on an AFC ZERO EGG BENEDICT using an egg substitute called ZERO EGG.
As I write this I’m thinking, why not do the forbidden? Toast and juice only. Sorry Mom!! I know you’re laughing. Toast and juice with varied breads and jams alternating with smoothies and shakes.
I did the yogurt thing for a while, but I couldn’t eat just one. It’s like pudding to me. I love it.
Every now and then leftovers. And every now and then an upscale breakfast on week-ends or holidays.
i can picture myself twenty pounds lighter while eating toast and juice for breakfast as outlined with occasional variations.
Oh, the reason Mom demanded cereal or egg was for the protein. Cereal had some protein and the milk on it more. And egg of course was a protein source. Toast wasn’t considered high in protein. But maybe I don’t require as much protein as others. My muscle mass isn’t very massive. I was a skinny, lanky kid.
I didn’t like milk either unless there was chocolate in it. The animal taste. Eventually I came to love cheese. When everybody else was eating peanut butter and jelly, I was eating thinly sliced white Kraft American cheese sandwiches. My mother had this old, long dull knife that could shave cheese into rolls and that’s how I liked it – not thick or chunky – too dry that way.
She never complained about my food quirks, because I ate a lot of veggies. The only meat I really liked was ham, because the animal taste was disguised. Everything else I had to have something covering it – some condiment.
Fish was off my menu, even Friday nights when we had some sort of fresh fish and on holidays when she served shrimp cocktail – from a can no less, but everybody loved it but me. Nothing that smelled like fish was going to get past my nose. And it was always fresh too. My mother-in-law once said I had an over-developed sense of smell. I didn’t even like the smell of fish cooking.
In adulthood my tastes changed and I liked shrimp and lobster, preferably clams minus the bellies, salmon, haddock, some other white fish. No interest in anything called cat.
I’ve always been big on sauces. Sauce on everything. I must be part French. They like to disguise things too.
I could eat tuna fish packed in water with lots of mayo. Or a tuna casserole, once again though, disguised with mushroom soup, noodle and topped with crunched potato chips.
Pork shoulder yes, roasted pork no. Hamburgs over hot dogs. No bacon for me. Lots of barbecue sauce on the chicken. Beef was most always sort of tough to chew.
My mother or father made baked beans in a pressure cooker every Saturday – with salt pork and lots of yellow onions, whole (peeled and quartered of course). She soaked them overnight, parboiled them in the morning then put them in the pressure cooker.
Sometimes they didn’t soften up sufficiently, not all beans cook up the same, and we’d eat them anyway. My father would say, these beans are like bullets and we’d all agree. Too late to throw them back; they were already on the plate.
I think they were called yellow eye beans. But when cooked, there was this tiny thread-like piece of white that came out of some of the beans and looked like a worm to me, so I wouldn’t eat them. My father finally put his foot down and said “is there anything you can eat besides dessert?” I said these things look like worms; how do i know they’re not?
I won. I could always find something else to eat – a cheese sandwich maybe.
Now I’m done!