54 Breakfasts for My Lover
Whatever happens in 2022, the beauty of ordinary life is here to stay
When the hunger for your touch
Rises from the hunger
You whisper, you have loved enough
Now let me be the lover
~ Leonard Cohen
We are grieving what we have lost to the pandemic in the last two years and are considering new pandemic or post-pandemic possibilities awaiting us in 2022. To replace winter languishing with life-renewing dormancy, we can look back and express our gratitude for the transformation that has come out of the great stopping.
I found it helpful to pay attention to ordinary life during these two years from hell. As we adjusted to working from our apartment in Harlem, New York City, I prepared whatever was in the fridge for breakfast for my wife for a few months.
Here are some photos with no staging, no filtering, and no editing, followed by a note, a quick recipe, and a little bit about her. At the bottom, you can find my learnings from the experience.
If you are curious about transformational cooking, check out “If You Can Learn to Cook You Can Change Your Life: Step beyond the made-up complexity and artificial urgency of everything.”
It’s 7 am and she is moving fast. Everything is falling in the right places, from her hair to her heart. I beat some eggs and feta cheese whey/brine, and I know I am good. I dice a piece of leek, drop it on hot olive oil, and pour over eggs/whey batter. I toast bread and make some arugula salsa. She is already focused on the computer screen and does not see me placing the plate next to her. But I see her.
French breakfast in the morning makes people think about things like French kissing during the day. By the time we go to bed, we are ready to talk romantic and fall asleep. Sometimes, talking is enough.
I have a sticky note on the edge of my computer screen that says “Polenta!” My therapist and I came to the conclusion that life does not have to be complicated. Complex, yes. But not complicated. My lover is like that. (Here with toasted Delicata Winter Squash stuffed with a mix of pesto and goat cheese, served with greens and shallots).
She really really loved this one. She kept asking “What was that vegetable again?” And I would say, it’s watermelon radish and we got it at farmer’s market, remember? Then she would ask again “What was that vegetable again?” I love that.
What can be more ordinary than an ordinary Tuesday? Or ordinary love, of an ordinary couple, on an ordinary Tuesday? Here’s to the mysticism of the ordinary, an ability to see. Carrots are the color of the Big Bang, a lame omelet tastes like food of gods, and bread is whole and warm like her thigh.
There’s time for everything. For sweet breakfast, for savory breakfast, and for a toasted hot pepper breakfast. It’s my way of screaming, cleansing out the news I have mistakenly checked before taking time to notice who I am and where I’m going. She, on the other hand, knows, always, who she is and where she is going. (Here with quinoa, egg/cheddar stripes, cilantro, oregano buds, cherry tomatoes).
She likes mushrooms. From an earlier dinner, I saved one portobello for this breakfast. Yesterday, I got some Enoki, and tossed both with a splash of truffle olive oil that my friend Nate gifted to me. Plus protein bread tartine with goat cheese + cucumbers + scallion. She said this one was the best breakfast ever. She says that all the time.
I bought a tomato worthy of a queen. I beat eggs and salt and let it rest for 10 minutes (it does something to it) while I brew an Earl Gray tea for her. I put some diced leek greens and spinach on hot olive oil. Then eggs and some feta cheese on top. Goldened it, plated it, and crowned it with salted tomato, finished the tea, and put it on her work desk while she is still dressing up.
Baked, golden-crusted, wonderfully-chewy rice and bean dish from Cuba. Leftover heated with a dollop of sour cream and lettuce salad. A power breakfast waaay beyond processed granola or oh-no-eggs-again. “Beans for breakfast?” she said, and “Wow.”
My friend Josh stopped by and dropped a huge puffball mushroom from a forest in upstate New York. I cut it, sauteed it, lined happy mushroom pillows on the toasted bread, massaged some kale with oil, salt, vinegar, and topped it off with grated goat cheese. For this one, we sat together for breakfast, on Monday!
We walked to the farmer’s market holding hands. She said, “I like these.” I said “You like French radishes?” “Yeah, they are not too hot.” So, I mixed some cheeses, served them with an ice-cream scooper, and topped them with a sesame spice mix. Our not-too-hot breakfast.
I mashed some avocado with salt and herbs. I then served it on toasted bread with scallion toppings. Acid on the side, unfinished, so she can participate in making it happen.
A couple of days before, I made a Middle Eastern version of Ratatouille (with ghee, Turkish oregano buds, and roasted wild cumin). For this breakfast for her, I spiraled some Labne (middle eastern thick yogurt) and sprinkled red/purple dry Sumac on top. Arabian morning with her.
Today I mixed larger chunks of dried Ciabatta bread, with fresh spinach, eggs (she wanted them for Easter), Dubliner cheddar cheese, and sour cream, just dropped the mixture on leeks browned in hot olive oil in cast iron, then broiled. With spring salad of colorful peppers and parsley. Happy Easter my love.
White beans heated on hot olive oil with garlic, with blanched swiss chard, topped with basil flowers from our apartment window. She LOVES vegan.
When we met, her favorite color was purple. The color triggers memories of walking down the streets of Zagreb, holding her hand, looking into her adoring eyes. All the way to here, thirty years later, in New York City. Fresh purple cauliflower flowers for her. (Plus harissa for passion, labne for comfort, parsley for awakening, and baba ganoush for potassium!)
She and I went for a long walk and on the way back we learned that our younger daughter Leta got up earlier than usual, made shakshuka and pita bread from scratch. (She is hooked to the kitchen for life and there is no way back for her I think.) When we got home, she served us this love.
Beans and rice for breakfast! A dish called “Moors & Christians” commemorates one of the most beautiful times in Spain where diversity was an incredible source of creativity and power. “The Other” can see and say what you cannot see or say, and gives us a blessing we cannot give to ourselves. She has been my loving other.
We belong to one another. Four of us. Avocado. Beet hummus. Avocado. Greek yogurt. Surrounded by cuke, cuke, cuke, and cuke. It’s a blueprint of a home, with our daughters Ena and Leta, four of us, with walls open at every corner for everyone else to visit and belong.
Lazy morning avocado, cucumbers, Norwegian bread, and some serious South African spice mix to help her wake up.
First, protein bread appeared, then eggplant spread showed up, then medium-boiled egg arrived. When I turned around, yellow peppers, cucumbers, parsley, salt, and olive oil mixed themselves up and landed on our plates. As if this was not a miracle enough, purple Sumac spice fell down from the sky. I told her how it happened, and she knew it was true.
I burned some squash. Forgot to take it out of the oven. It was bitter. But good. I then found some pink radicchio in the back of the fridge. Which was bitter. But good. I poured over it a fancy balsamic vinegar we got on our last romantic trip to upstate New York. Plus, sure bet avocado with salt flakes. All good.
Got some gooseberries. Then the idea of serving them with burrata cheese lodged itself into my imagination. But burrata is expensive and I have to go out of my way to buy it. So I said to myself “If I don’t deserve it, she does. I’ll do it for her.” Oh, the wonderful mind love games we play!
Old bread cubes briefly toasted on olive oil in cast iron skillet. I then made a happy mix of eggs and sour cream, poured it over, lowered the fire, and took my time to prepare red cabbage salad. Usually, she is too busy, already at the computer, saying nothing to me. This time she smiled at this sun coming up.
What does my love like? Avocado. Check. Cucumbers. Check. Feta. Check. Olive oil and lemon. Check. Surprise spices. Check. A long, silent, morning hug. Check.
Reminding us of home back in Croatia, roasted peppers are one of her favorite foods. It’s packed sunshine coming alive in our mouths. It’s memories of the goodness of our moms and dads appearing. Their love gave us our love. (Here with goat cheese and protein bread).
When I want “thank you” from her, I do this. No carbs except for the delightful sweetness of beets and yams. Plus arugula, sprouts, and greek yogurt. She almost never says thank you for breakfast, it’s kind of normal, and I like that. Except when there are no carbs. I saw her later in the kitchen and she (I knew it!) said, “Thank you darlin’.”
Classic egg and a pile of cabbage dressed with beet juice, red wine vinegar, EVOO, and a touch of ground cumin. Quickie mornin’!
I did not know what to do with the leftovers. Then I remember that leftovers are sure signs of an abundance in our lives. So, I flipped scarcity into gratitude. That’s how we started the day together.
Classic avocado, lettuce, toast, and warm spices for a classy warm woman. Served with her favorite decaf Earl Grey tea.
Going back to some old recipes is like going back in a photo album, just waaay more powerful. Olfactory sense and memory have an explosive relationship. We used to devour quinoa while in grad school, life was hard and full of hope, and things worked out, as they will again. (Here: orange pepper, scallion, bay leaf powder, sundried tomato powder, feta, butter, and olive oil.)
Basil from our window pot. From her window pot, actually. She takes care of all the herbs we grow in our apartment. They make a difference, living in this big, dirty, wonderful city. This green basil is the centerpiece in this plate, like she is the centerpiece of New York City for me.
Toasted chunks of dried sourdough bread, soaked in eggs and sour cream, with arugula and vinegar. Lots of fermentation here carrying the dish. Everything ferments and changes, politics ferments, art ferments, love ferments.
These breakfasts never stop. On, and on, and on the breakfasts go. One of the books that affected my life was the high school reading of Kierkegaard’s “Repetition” where he argues that if you cannot learn to love the ordinary day and repetition, you will never live deeply. Egg whites with feta, salad, and bread I bake over and over again for her.
Chinese-style breakfast we never had before: rice, sunnyside up egg in sesame oil and soy sauce, toasted sesame seeds, scallions, and a side of cucumbers. A Yin to our pandemic Yang. She dug it so much.
Forest colors. Deep green arugula bed. Deep brown Cremini mushrooms simmered in sundried shiitake + porcini + maitake powder concoction I make, soaked in a soy sauce/ butter mix, served on Faro grain. That’s where we first made out, in the green and earth-brown magic world, with Funghi Love of the forest floor holding us.
I am, but she is not a cottage cheese person at all. But sometimes, love is eating, with gusto, what your lover likes. I’m her lover. (California-style cottage cheese and Za’atar spice on protein bread.)
That red thing, I forgot what that is. There is so much happening, I’m losing track. There are too many experiences to be had. There is more good information out there than I can ever use. And too much truth to understand. Can we learn to live fully without constantly filling our lives with good, truthful, and wonderful things?
Our attention determines whether our memories are trivial or sacred. When we first met, her favorite color was purple, mine was yellow. (Eggs, ricotta, and feta whey/brine topped with steamed purple cauliflower sprinkled with lemon juice that brings out the magenta.)
Mystical breakfast. Burrata, gooseberries, Hungarian red peppers, baby zucchini, black pepper, and fresh rosemary. No need for LSD microdosing here.
It was a swirl of the morning and this was an improv 100%. I have no idea what’s in this omelet. Sometimes, forget pre-thinking and just start making things up. It’s all yes to life. Whatever my lover says, I say “Brilliant, and…”
Classic Aussie: toasted bread, marmite spread, egg. Taking her there is one of those things from a dream world! If what we do now does not pan out, my plan B is for her to become a celebrity, and I can then be her chef and travel guide.
It’s snowing inside. I keep the frozen goat cheese in the freezer and grate it on top of vegetables, like a falling blessing. It’s all a little theater, daily, mini, embodied. Practicing the imagination of all the blessings that snow on us.
Well-toasted sourdough bread with awesome pesto from Costco and tomatoes giving themselves in ecstasy here. Plus wonderful bitter baby arugula. When she bit into it, there was a crunch, and there was that unmistakable expression of moaning pleasure on her face.
This medium-soft egg is all one needs to start working. I’m taking care of you, life says, go ahead and do your part. And she too goes and does her part when she works, like a good and happy soldier of love.
In Croatia, we grew up on mladi sir (young cheese), something I could not find anywhere else in the world. But 3/4 of Friendship brand California-style cottage cheese mixed with 1/4 of sour cream gets it pretty close! With a sprinkle of Icelandic kelp and scallions on top, and olive oil toasted zucchini. Food is our 7-senses lifeline to our origins.
This is my memory of Italy, Austria, and Slovenia, toasted polenta with goat cheese, portobello, and a strangely delicious Italian hot tomato paste. Any of the four items works in pair with any other three items, oh so much flavor to play in one’s mouth. Polenta relaxes us, it says life can be golden yellow, inexpensive, and has that one-and-only umami aroma of toasted corn.
The smoothest version of eggs I know how to make, moist, creamy. So good they make people silent, feeling the welcome of life. Plus Norwegian bread and the French radishes she loves.
Growing up, we had French toast monthly, ate it savory, never as sweet breakfast. Hot oil creates a crispy and whole experience, then plain yogurt, steamed purple cauliflower, and chives are there as breaks, so you can bite into crispy goodness again. Like our love, we take breaks between things, loving whatever is around.
Leeks, feta cheese, and zucchini, with eggs as the mortar. I used to hate Caesar dressing until I made it from scratch and finally understood its charms. Plus whole wheat bread I baked. She loved it all, a quick morning triumph!
I tell myself that every work of art has an anomaly. This is the only dish in the series that had meat. Cooked and sliced beef, tossed in soy sauce, sesame oil, and Korean paste Gochujang. With toppings. No to carbs, yes to flavor. She is not keen on meat though. (We should all learn to be more vegan these days.)
Spinach, eggs, and bread. Straightforward like Wednesday. Straightforward like her.
Gentle avocado floating in chipotle sauce (2/3 sour cream 1/3 mayo with chipotle sauce to taste) topped with red pepper flakes. Hot love.
As I was walking to my kitchen rubbing my eyes, I thought about feta cheese, then realized I have some spinach, tomato, and garlic, smoked Maldon salt, which ended up on the parchment paper (all while she was taking a shower). By the time she put the robe on and came to the kitchen, it was all roasted. Then I mixed two eggs, very lightly, poured them over, ground three-color peppercorns, and added a touch of cumin. By the time she sat down, I served these on a plate with some fresh basil on top and toasted bread. Good morning love, how are you? She picked some crispy spinach from the edge, placed it slowly on the edge of her lip, took her glasses off and… this is where sharing ends.
The following are some ways transformational cooking has helped me (and can help you):
… practice in-life mindfulness meditation, with no sitting cushion or extra time or money required.
… creating a work of art before working on anything else.
… get in touch with people, stories, and spaces of our own lives before reading the news.
… romance our love whoever he, she, or they might be. (It works, oh, it works, oh so well!)
… prepare delicious, low-carb, high-nutrition, all-vegetarian meals. (We can enjoy meats and sweets because of the regularity of habits like this one.)
… observe a sacred ritual of paying attention to life as it comes, like a quick trip to a temple for morning prayer.
Whether the pandemic ends now or goes on in 2022, the beauty of daily life is here to stay. Cooking, housekeeping, or fixing a car. I commit myself to the ordinary. Do you have your own transformational practice grounded in your daily life? I’d love to know! Please share below.
This was one of the most tender, heart-warming, delightful internet experiences I've encountered in this often cold, detached digital landscape. I feel like I had a seat at the table of your love and it inspires me deeply. Thank you!
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