African Vanielje on Aug 30 2007 at 8:28 pm | Filed under: Uncategorized
It may come as a surprise to those who know about me and mornings, that breakfast is actually one of my favourite meals of the day.
The others being, of course, lunch, tea and supper. But breakfast has the added advantage of coming first. This doesn’t necessarily mean at the crack of dawn, or even in the morning, oh no. Nobody ever said it had to be in the morning. In fact, the best time for a full cooked breakfast is 4.00 in the afternoon. Breakfast is simply, by definition, the meal with which you break your fast. i.e. after starving yourself all night. (archaic really – everybody in this enlightened day and age knows about midnight feasts).
I’ve always been fascinated by Victorian breakfasts of Sirloin and Porter. Who can eat a great big hunk of meat for breakfast? No,no, no…you need to ease yourself gently into the day with several cups of coffee, or some hot tea, preferably made by someone else and served to you in bed. Tea was one of the first things I taught my daughter to make. Come to think of it, it might be the first thing that I learned to make.
Sunday mornings was the only time we got to wake my mother up with tea in bed. The rest of the week she, being a morning person, and like Marye from Apron Strings.. relishing her quiet time in the morning to greet the day, would wake us up gently with a glass of fresh squeezed OJ in summer, or a tiny espresso cup of hot milk and honey in winter. Then we were all left to get up and going at our own pace, as long as we were at the breakfast table by 7.00am.
Looking back I don’t know how she did it, but like all the food she produced for a constantly hungry family, it was an expression of her love. We would have fresh fruit, spiced porridge or homemade muesli, scrambled eggs flavoured with fresh chives from the pot on the kitchen step, and toast, crisp, hot and begging for butter.
My poor child, on the other hand, gets a designated spot at the kitchen counter, surrounded by tins of weetabix and an earthenware bowl of ’sweet muesli’, the honey granola that she and her father are so fond of. The milk is put at her level in the fridge, and if my husband is home, he lays out her bowl and spoon, and a little red and gold Russian tea glass for her juice, the night before. This is like a secret message that always makes her smile. Often Rory is gone before she wakes up, and this is his way of letting her know he is thinking of her as she starts her day.
Dakota, like my mother, is a morning person. It seems to be some sort of genetic thing that clearly skips a generation. When at home in Africa, she goes ‘wet grass walking’ with Kassie, barefoot on the lawn, allowing the kiss of last night’s dew to wake up sleepy feet. Then she and her cousin sit at the kitchen table and chatter, sharing with Kassie their worries and dreams, both sleeping and waking, and often, their plans for the day. It is a magical time, this morning thing. I know because I have experienced it myself once or twice.
Dawn in Somerset flows gently over the rim of the world and laps slowly at the shores of morning. In Africa, dawn pads silently up like a lion, then roars in your ear. If you do not awaken in the quiet dark of the pre-dawn hour, the day starts without you, and by the time you are up the air is hot, the sun is bright, the birds are noisily gossiping and you feel as if you’ve missed something.
I remember one morning about five years ago when we had to open up my mom’s restaurant for a photo shoot before dawn. The image as we drove up the avenue to the Wine Estate has stayed with me, breathtaking in its visceral beauty. The sun clambering hungrily over the mountain was so close I felt like Icarus. It’s fiery gaze razed the line of ancient oaks, reducing them to burnt skeletons of themselves, their shadows laying thick black tiger stripes on the rich orange earth of the recently dug up vineyard.
In Somerset it is not quite as dramatic, but if you are awake you can watch as the world around you release their dreams to float away like hot air balloons, their pilots left behind to start their day. Yes, as I said, I have done this morning thing once or twice. And although Dakota often helps herself to breakfast, don’t call social services yet. I like to think of it as training her to become a strong and independent member of the human race, and I do make her ’sweet muesli’ myself.
Sweet Muesli or Homemade Honey Granola
This granola stores well and makes a great ‘trail mix’ , or lunchbox snack. It is also a quick and easy cheat’s crumble topping.
this made me smile for many reasons. Working small daily celebrations into our lives makes them worth living..serving a cup of hot cocoa as you wake your child up ..a special breakfast cup, a kitty shaped pancake..my husband used to bring me coffee when I over slept to wake me gently..
Mueseli is a favorite here.
very nice.. made me feel all warm and fuzzy… i grew up in a house where breakfast was always hot and atleast three things.. a very important ritual, I must admit now for me breakfast means two galsses of cold coffee. But mueseli works wonders for me as dinner ;o)
Simple abundance my mom calls it, marye. She says we need to be grateful for the abundance which surrounds us. The colour of new grass, the call of a woodpecker, a little ray of sun dancing with the dust…all beautiful, all simple,all free
How do you do kitty shaped pancakes?
ritu, rory also likes cereal but not for breakfast. He normally has an enormous bowl with a tub of yoghurt for his midnight snack. Just to get him throuhg the night.
What type of things would you have for breakfast?
Before I read your post this morning, I was thinking about how much I would love to have a breakfast ritual just like the one you’ve described here…honestly! My OH always runs out to get coffee at the bar, and I and my doggie have breakfast…but if/when there are children, I definitely want what you’ve described. I’ll have to bookmark this post so I can remember
Btw, I mentioned you on my blog today
breakfast meant wafer thin rice pancaked with potato stuffing ( Dosa) or puffed rice pan fried with curry leaves peanuts and fresh tomatoes
unleavened bread cooked on griddle with yoghurt..or savoury chickpea cakes steamed with coconut
i could go on and on and on
ritu, as usual sounds scrummy (scrumptious and yummy – it’s in websters, look it up). Do you mostly cook italian food or do you ever cook the kind of food you grew up with?
Sognatrice, sometimes you have to stop and take stock, and these little morning rituals are so Important. My daughter goes back to school on Wednesday and, as you are studying, my new term’s challenge is going to be to try and be more of a morning person. It’s precious time that flies so quickly. And such simple things mean so much. I made Dakota fresh pancakes with maple syrup and yoghurt for breakfast the other day, and the sticky kiss and the completely un-prompted ‘you’re the BEST mom in the world’ was more than worth 30 minutes less sleep. p.s. thanks a million for the mention. so lovely of you
Inge, it seems that at least two blogger have mentioned you today.
I feel really honoured andrea. I didn’t know it was blog day, shows how new I am at this. Maybe next year I’ll be abe to pay it forward. Thank you so much
i love to cook Italian, but my soul food is still food I grew up with.I am very lazy with Indian food, and normally let some one else do it for me. but yes once in a while at home I like to cook Simple Indian comfort food..