(Clockwise, from top left: Coconut-almond macaroons; Julia's tsimmes; Ashkenazi charoset, matzoh ball soup).
My point is not that I ate the above meal for dinner last night, though I did. My point is that I ate it again for breakfast this morning, backwards. And though I'm not especially proud of myself for starting the day with cookies, I refuse to beat myself up over it.
A few weeks ago, my colleague Susan Rubin got me thinking. She's a real expert on several topics, including dentistry, Chinese medicine, school food, and Indian ashrams. And that's just a start.
I don't know a lot of people like Susan.
But I'm getting ahead of myself, especially because I'll be posting a full-scale interview with her sometime next week. What I really want to focus on today is something Susan taught me about breakfast.
See, one morning when we were together, Susan heated up the leftovers from the prior evening's dinner and ate them at 7:00 a.m. I sipped tea and looked on, partly bemused, partly bewildered. Then I got hungry. Then, finally, I got jealous. Why wasn't I eating dinner for breakfast?
Look, I know people eat savory breakfasts the world over, but I've just never had curries, or jook, or miso first thing in the morning. And I'm thinking perhaps that should change.
So this morning, I left the shredded wheat and the oatmeal in the cabinet and pulled out the Seder leftovers instead.
I confess that I started with dessert, but I'm new at this.
Cut me some slack.
...
N.B. to David Lebovitz: I know you don't know me from Adam, and I promise I'm not a crazy stalker-lady, but your macaroons? They're my new favorite coconut dessert. By swapping almond meal for the flour (thanks, LF!), they're even Passover-appropriate. I tip my beret to you and offer you my endless gratitude. Merci bien.
