Christmas has come and gone, and still I’m left with this lingering nostalgia. I’m not not enjoying it — I’m as nostalgic a person as you’ll ever meet — but I am, consequently, in an unsettled mental state. I’ve felt like my 16-year-old self and what I suppose I’ll feel like when I’m 30. I’ve sorted through drawers of knick-knacks and notes and, finding the items less meaningful than they once were, I’ve deposited whole loads of them into the trash. It’s hard to pin down, exactly, but everything seems less fixed than it should.Perhaps this fluidity — climatic, geographical, emotional — is what allowed for my full acceptance of a non-traditional Xmas breakfast. Rather than bake a Dutch Baby as we’ve done every year (literally every year), my mom, sis, and I opted out. Our breakfast was simpler: ready-made cinnamon rolls drizzled with shockingly sweet frosting; Pannetone spread thick with butter; bacon and hard-boiled eggs; fruit salad; and cup after cup of coffee, its bitterness mitigated with soy milk and stevia.
I wondered how I’d accept this non-standard [nay: deviant?] breakfast. I fretted, if only a bit: if only because I’m so attached to traditions, even those that have outlived their uses.
But the breakfast pleased me, especially those break & bake rolls with the runny white icing. The food itself wasn’t as important as the vibe conveyed by the meal; if I’d closed my eyes, I could have imagined myself to be eating a slice of Dutch Baby.
In other news, we’re off to Sea Ranch for the holiday weekend. I’m so stoked! The fact is, I’d never heard of Sea Ranch before Alex brought up renting a cabin, but I’ve since done a bit of research [read: three google image searches] and I’m smitten from afar. The cabin we’re staying in has a full kitchen, and there are few nearby restaurants, so we’ll be cooking our own meals. The proposed menu includes fresh cinnamon doughnuts, chowder, braised lamb shanks, and probably bacon and eggs. Nothing is solidified at the current time, but these are our ideas.