Sunday, June 19, 2005

Sunday Breakfasts

La Noisette, Franck and Louise’s tea room across from the church, now serve English breakfasts. I fell asleep Saturday night thinking about Sunday morning. It was everything I dreamed it would be, two sunny-side up eggs, beans (I am New Englander rooted enough to prefer molasses in my baked beans except in an English breakfast), baked herbed tomato and of course, a good cup of milky tea.

However the French flavour was maintained with the baguette and neighbours walking by saying “Bonjour” and “Bon appetite.” Babette, the green grocer, two buildings up the street, waved and asked me if it were good. I held two thumbs up.

Franck stood at one end, trying to figure out how to protect the outside area on windy days, then tended to the flowers in the two planters flanking the terrace.

Sunday morning breakfasts have always been special. From the days on Wigglesworth Street starting when Bill would whip up a meal that would satisfy our hunger late into the day. Sometimes they even arrived on trays in bed along with parts of the Boston Globe. One time he presented us with printed invitations and a menu that included eggs of choice, bacon, sausage, English muffins, bagels, blueberry muffins, juice and more. We called my daughter who lived on the next block. Although not a morning person, the idea of a Bill breakfast, got her to Wigglesworth Street in record time.

When I was doing my masters in Wales, Geoff at the B&B used to do the English breakfasts, which was a good thing, because the food at the university’s refractory took courage to put in your mouth, never mind swallow.

In Geneva, I made myself a big Sunday breakfast, set the table often decorated with flowers from the previous day, and sat at my table looking at the field and the château across the streets. My new place is close to the lake and I still imagine going into the garden and eating a big breakfast when I get back there next month.

As much as I love croissants and brioche, the idea of having an English breakfast within a few minutes walk gives Sunday a whole new meaning.

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