Saturday, August 9, 2008

ode to my (french) breakfast

I cannot believe that I still delight in the same breakfast. In France, breakfast are a subdued affair, even on the week end, where you might find yourself running to the bakery for a warm croissant and running back to slip into the warm bed, cradling a big bowl of cafe au lait as you wipe a few buttery crumbs from your lover's chin..... ( no Sunday paper to interfere ). during the week, a quick coffee and a tartine, sometimes a baguette, a raisin loaf, a slice of poilane bread,smeared with rich Normandy butter "a la motte"( a big rounded pyramid of yellow goodness as it was shaped after churning) with some good jam. Ahhhhh...
Never have I had a cereal breakfast.I have been found to indulge in a warm oatmeal porridge in the winter once in a great while, but then , I come to miss my toasted tartine ( preferably dark brown), and with it, my two mugs of burning hot tea. That first sip is something that I sight over,pain of the hot liquid on my tongue with the pleasure of my night thirst being finally quenched.summer bounty of berries,I made some raspberry jam to round up the delicious moment.

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