You may have heard the oft-repeated saying that “breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” You may also have heard the argument that breakfast is not the most important meal of the day. I am not here to argue either of those points. I just want to say that breakfast is fucking great, and worth celebrating daily, if not more often.
That’s right. Remember the last time you went an entire eight hours without eating any food? It was last night. You were starving. Then you got out of bed, and hopefully, if you derive any joy from food, you ate breakfast. And it was wonderful.
Try this sometime: Just before you fall asleep for the night and you’re lying in bed, envision what you’re going to eat for breakfast the next morning. Scheduling something to look forward to in the morning has actually been proven to make you happier, so schedule breakfast. If you don’t think you have time for breakfast, make time.
On July 31, 2012, a young man named Oliver Young posted the sentence “I love sleep because it’s a time machine to breakfast” on his Tumblr. This, as far as my research leads, is the first record of this brilliant philosophy. A few hours later, someone posted the quote to Twitter, and immediately, Twitter users began to copy and paste the idea, and it has since been repeated without attribution hundreds of times, incorporated into comics, posted to Instagram, and put on t-shirts. Although it’s kind of sad so many people will pass off someone else’s idea as their own, it also shows how powerful the idea of a “breakfast time machine” is.
Of course, there’s also the possibility that you might get excited enough about breakfast that you jump out of bed and cook up an egg scramble or breakfast burrito and stay up late eating breakfast. This is OK too. If you’re wondering if it’s really OK to eat breakfast at 11 p.m., remember that you are an adult, and continue enjoying your pre-sleep breakfast.
Another tactic that has been clinically proven* to make the start of your day even more wonderful is going out for breakfast. Breakfast is 40 percent more fun to go out for than other meals**, and here’s why:
We live in a time of miracles. If I want to, I can video call most of my friends or family members on a phone I carry in my pocket. I can get on a plane and in a few hours arrive on a different continent. I can type any song title from the past six decades into a computer and instantly listen to that song.
Yes, those things are all great. But let’s talk about a less-celebrated miracle: Say you suck at cooking eggs. Maybe you can’t evenly fry them sunny side up, or you can never quite flip them correctly trying to get them over easy, or over medium. And poaching them? Forget about it. And then on top of that, trying to fry potatoes so they’re done at the same time, and make some decent coffee, and time it all so it’s done right as your toast pops out of the toaster? Holy shit that’s stressful first thing in the morning.
Now, do you have twelve dollars? Well, all across America, there are these rooms where you can sit down, tell someone how you would like your breakfast cooked, and 15 minutes later, it comes out more or less like you asked for it, and you didn’t even have to try to cook eggs. Also, someone will periodically walk by and refill your cup of coffee. Twelve dollars! Maybe ten bucks in some places. This, friends, is a miracle. And these places are called restaurants. If you had told human beings 2000 years ago that this type of thing would exist, you would have blown their minds. No, seriously, someone toasts your bread and butters it for you while you sit on your ass and show your friend videos on your phone. What a life!
Now, I am not a food writer. If I were a food writer, this would be a great spot to put a recipe for a pear-and-brie omelette and/or brioche french toast. Sorry. I am the guy who loves to pay people to cook eggs for him, so unfortunately all I can offer is a virtual high-five and implore that if you are the least bit hungry and it’s before 2 p.m., you celebrate breakfast by eating it. And enjoy it, maybe multiple times. Even if you’ve already eaten breakfast—make room for Second Breakfast or Elevenses. Lift a forkful of omelette and/or fried potatoes to your mouth, and exclaim, “Fuck yeah, breakfast,” and remember what Winnie the Pooh would do:
“When you wake up in the morning, Pooh,” said Piglet at last, “what’s the first thing you say to yourself?”
“What’s for breakfast?” said Pooh. “What do you say, Piglet?”
“I say, I wonder what’s going to happen exciting today?” said Piglet.
Pooh nodded thoughtfully. “It’s the same thing,” he said.”
(Winnie-the-Pooh, A.A. Milne)
-Brendan
*Actually not clinically proven
**Totally made-up
“Fuck yeah, breakfast!” Easily the most fantastic meal ever created.
It’d be nice if restaurants served cold pizza in the mornings. That meal doesn’t take much (if any) preparation assuming you had pizza recently, didn’t eat the whole thing, and kept the leftovers in your refrigerator. But sometimes you didn’t eat pizza recently, and still want cold pizza for breakfast. It’d be nice is all I’m saying.
Only thing better than cold pizza for breakfast: Leftover pizza warmed in a skillet until the bottom is crisp, topped with an over medium egg (or two). Trust me.
If being able to pay someone to make you a cup of coffee makes you rich, how rich are you if you can pay them to make you eggs, too??
that’s what I’m saying
How could Hunter S Thompson ever steer you wrong?!
Amen
Then, there are those of us who must actually WORK for breakfast. And what I mean by this is to say we work the night shift, where we toil through the darkness–waiting for daylight to break. And what happens when that brilliant and radiant warmth fills the rooms? We know it is almost time for breakfast of course! And what an exciting thought to carry us through the darkness…
Thanks for the reminder that it is not only OK but in fact a miracle to stop off at the local diner for eggs and pancakes when the time comes!
Excellent!
I often find myself in a real dilemma, however. I can cook a kick ass breakfast. Over-easy, over-medium, migas, scrambled, poached… and all the ancillary sides that make crappy, mundane eggs most awesome. Here in San Antonio, of course, we have a completely different curve ball… the breakfast taco. Sadly, most everyone has not experienced the enigmatic, life-changing event of eating one bean & cheese and one bacon & egg taco—the perfect breakfast. That said, there’s still something about a proper diner breakfast. There are few things, even outside of the breakfast realm, that beat it!
I miss Texas tacos. The convenience, the availability, the quality. Woe is me now.
This might be the best piece of writing ever. By anyone.
Zero hour: “Fuck yeah: Breakfast.”
Two hours later: “Oh God, why did I eat so much? And bring me the head of the bloke who invented Champagne & Orange Juice. And why is this walk-in so long? Was this mountain always so steep?”
Four hours later: “Hmm… seems we remembered the rack. That’s something. Is your headache fading, too?”
Six hours later: “Fuck yeah: Trad. Climbing!”
Ten hours later: “At least one head-torch is better than none, right? And we finished the last pitch before dark so we only need it for the walk-out.”
Sixteen hours later: … sounds of contented, slow and regular breathing.
Twenty-four hours later: “Fuck yeah: Breakfast!”
Inspired by a true story.