I slept late. Moved slow. the rhythm of a fall arriving late, the sweet confusion of the day abloom ablaze and warm
where afternoon quickly cools, darkens moody. A day for brunch, brunching, grazing.
Last night I baked the plantains that took two weeks to ripen nto fragrance. I munched one for a foody desert.
I heated the other in the frying pan after frying a beautiful egg.
Why are the brown eggs so much more... flavorfull and shimmering than the white ones? The difference is like that of summer tomatoes vs. shipped from wherever tomatoes. I used to think I needed a juimbo egg to feel satiated. one of these samll brown eggs fills me, teaching again the lesson that it is not size it is quality and intensity of the experience that counts.
I boiled quatered red potatoes last night, using the fresh basil stems and less prstine leaves in the water, along with sea salt, and parsley. I seldom use plai water for anything.
Boiling is an opportunity to introduce and infuse flavor. These potatoes were so delicious that I munched a couple of quarters while I made my cheap and delicious coffee. I amend Bustelo with cinnamon. The result is not cinnamon flaovered coffeee but a smoothening and warming. I mix the cinnamon in the the fine grounds and pour boiling water over the grounds in the filter--- for a real but "ionnstant" coffee.
This I sipped black for a bit and then addedd a dash of very vanilla soy milk. Sweet yum without sugar.
So what else? The whole grain cinnamon rais bread, heated in the oven, layered with apple butter, and the prebaked palntain, warmed in the fying pan after the fried egg.
Great, Saturday, brunch.
