It all started with a midnight brownie…
I used to be weird about sharing recipes. Really weird.
I suppose I can explain myself with two simple reasons:
a.) I never used to write my recipes down. I tend to be an “intuitive” cook and like to make decisions in the moment, rather than follow ones pre-made on paper.
b.) My pride for my “propriety” of a recipe was excessive.
My pride – for creativity and culinary “voice” – got in the way, for sure. That was the primary reason I kept my recipes, written out or not, under lock and key.
I think I have a slight obsession with breakfast.
. . . Ok, so maybe it’s not so slight. Allow me to rephrase.
I have a full-blown obsession with breakfast. I do. And I’m not afraid to admit to it.
A few weeks ago, my grandma spent the night at our house. She took us out to dinner at this awesome restaurant, CoolFish, where we ate . . . and ate . . . and ate. Honestly, I’m surprised I was able to stand up and walk out of there after the delicious (but incredibly filling) courses that I had. It was insane.
(To be fair, I think I was also insane to think that I could eat: a slice of beat and goat cheese tarte tatin, ahi tuna over Asian style noodles, and a slice of Jack Daniel’s chocolate pecan pie and white chocolate gelato. Yeah . . . my eyes were definitely bigger than my stomach that night.)
As soon as we got home, we all passed out on the couch. What a way to spend a Friday night.
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