Battle of the Breakfasts

but how CUTE is this sign from Slippin' Southern?

Hubby and I grew up on opposite ends of the country, quite literally. I grew up in Montreal, Canada – an entirely different country, in fact – about 8 hours North of Manhattan, and he grew up in Homestead, Florida – about 30 minutes North of the Florida Keys.  And? Our cities of origin say everything about our breakfast habits.

Let’s examine, shall we?

Hubby’s Southern-Style Breakfast Menu

Challah French Toast. Homemade. With heavy whipping cream in the batter.

Waffles.  Homemade. Sometimes topped with peaches and whipped cream.

Grits. Sometimes with cheese. Always with butter.  (I still don’t understand grits, but I’ve given up on that mission)

Biscuits. Freshly baked (from frozen). Served with honey.

Cream of Wheat.  Prepared with carnation milk and brown sugar.

Water.  Yes, WATER. The rationale is that the food is sweet, so having juice would clash with the meal. (I stopped trying to reason on this one)

and this is all on a regular weekday morning, mind you.

vs.

Stacey’s European-Style Breakfast Menu

An Egg with Toast.  Any style will do: boiled, fried, scrambled with some cheese and a few veggies. And Rye toast is my favorite.

Bagel with Cream Cheese. Montreal-style bagels are my preference (but virtually impossible to find in DC). If I’m treating myself, I’ll add tomato and red onion slices. Yum.

Muffin/Pastry with Fresh Fruit. Can’t go wrong.

Yogurt with Berries and/or Granola.  Parfaits work too.

Cereal. Yup.

Toast with Jam and a Slice (or two) of Bacon or Sausage or a piece of Cheese. Complex Carb + Protein is the name of the game.

Juice.  Orange, preferably, but any will do.  And a cup of tea is a must.

And so you see, there is no chance that Mom can ever win the Breakfast Battle in our house.  If I’m under 10 years old, of course I’m going for the rich, sweet breakfast, every.time.  Rather than fight it, I’ve embraced our differences.  Hubby is officially in charge of breakfast. Every single day.  If for some reason he is out of town or otherwise engaged, we have a “Mama Breakfast.” To which everyone moans and groans and peppers me with pleas to learn how to make grits.

I ignore it all.

On this particular morning, Hubby happens to be at basketball.  I am taking advantage of his absence and seizing the opportunity to make my kind of breakfast in an attempt to convince the children that a simple, flavorful meal can be satisfying.  I’ve got blueberry scones in the oven, turkey sausage links on the stove, and fresh watermelon to go along with it.

And ORANGE JUICE.

Chaos should definitely ensue.