From Yogurt, Müesli and Fresh Berries, to Homemade Müesli with Greek Yogurt and Thawed Frozen Berries, a Comparative Study.

This morning's breakfast was again made by 'er indoors. Normally sweet müesli doesn't do it for me, this time however the light sweetness of the honey against the pleasant tang of natural greek yogurt hit my tastenberge spot.

Made, in the 'first you must create the universe' sense. She made the granola from oats seeds honey etc. It is possible that this was because she doesn't like raisins and so left them out. Never the less it was the best mix I have ever tasted. To be honest I'm not sure I like(d) raisins in müesli. I can chew through them, but aren't raisins just a dry substitute for fresh grapes, and I'm always slightly disappointed when one ends up on my spoon. There's only one way to eat raisins really; souse them in some strong liquor.

Kellog's Krave...Here comes the rant.

I have not tasted "Krave". It used to be fashionable to bemoan sugary cereals. All the mums were at it. People thought children could catch Hyperactivity from sugar, lots and lots of sugar. After that we though Hyperactivity was down to bad parenting. Now we know better. It's actually down to bad teachers. Particularly the unionised ones.

Just to reinforce the brand in you mind; the television commercial shows a little kravicle jumping around like a child from a member of the untamed classes, biting chocolate pieces hither and thither. That's it, now you're Kraving it?

Sugar breakfast cereals are a bad idea. Not for the general tasteless public; they can eat whatever shite they think their bodies deserve. But for the people who com up with these ideas; the young graduates who land jobs in Kellogg's and Nestlé and such companies. Krave clearly smacks of an idea born of people who are driven to increase profits by their lawful obligation to shareholders. Even the name shows absolutely no imagination. I'm waiting to see the episode of The Apprentice where this lame sugary queer idea was probably thought up.

Imagine handing in your resumé to a new prospective employer, on which it read that you had been the inventor of Kellogg's Fruit Loops. It's laughable isn't it.

Bacon Egg McMuffin, Hash Brown and a Cup of Coffee

Wait a minute, what's going on? Once when I had was in college I indulged in the famous six o'clock breakfast of shame. I had been awake in the laboratory performing some vivisection on some baby rabbits to see if I could use electricity or acid burns to make them cuter. When I got carried away and forgot what time it was. There's not many places that will feed you at six O'clock in he morning covered in blood and hair, but Micky Dee's will let anyone in.

People whinge about McDonalds an aweful lot. It's not my ideal breakfast, but you won't get any self righteous hand wringing here, I find it hard to take. I'm not exempt from the odd Mac Attack, particularly when it's the only place open. I'm not exempt from the side of guilt one is made to swallow by the hippie types either. In the end I just remember nobody forced me to go.

Bacon Butty and a Cup of Tea

Slurp - ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Yogurt, Müesli and Fresh Berries

The Swiss get away with a lot. Hidden in their mountain lair keeping time to the picosecond whilst the rest of the world goes about its business, unaware it's being observed and secretly judged for being late.

This mornings breakfast was made for me by my girlfriend (yes, thank you darling it was delicious).

Initially I found it dry and dusty with the berries being the only moistness. As the oats and other magic dust absorbed moisture from the yogurt the dish became more appetising. I think a few table spoons of honey might be a welcome addition to a meal a lot of people save for an occasion such as post-cardiac-surgery-convalescence. People see it as a chore rather like classical music or fine art, instead of a breakfast to be enjoyed.

One thing is for damn sure, it's not enough. You'll need a slice or two of toast to suppliment it. The disclaiming phrase part or a nutritious breakfast springs to mind. I'm not sure what brand of muesli I ate and I've found they differ wildly in their tastiness.

Limonade sans Limone

My ire has been tickled. You lucky readers, two blog postings in one day.

Being a warm Irish summer day (18 °C), I decided to purchase a bottle of fancy lemonade to quench my thirst. I paid the €1.99 price tag, poured a good quarter of a pint down my dusty thrapple. Suddenely I was struck by a glaring absence of the taste of any kind of lemon whatsoever. A quick check of the stated ingredients confirmed the closet thing to lemon was citric acid, which it seems does not taste one bit lemony. I wouldn't care if they made the citric acid in a vat from petrol and tar if it tasted anything like lemons.

The drink in question if called "Bellot Lemon". Don't buy it. I've also raced back to the shop and tried a drink called "Lorina sparkling Lemonade Lemon" which you can get in a bottle with fancy re-corking stopper just like old timey lemonade. Don't buy it either. Lorina lists as one of its ingredients "Natural Lemon Aroma". What the fuck does that mean? Lorina also lists critic acid as one of the drinks "natural preservatives" which suggest to me it's used due to its absence of taste.

One more trip to the shop to browse the labels of rival products. It seems Fentimans is the only one that contains the juice of lemons (and pears as it happens) be it from concentrate and only 12 % its still ahead of the pack by a country mile. However it's guaranteed no more that 0.5 % alcohol (phew).

A bit of research on the web explains the entire misunderstanding. Lorina and Bellot are French names and of course are subject to wishy washy vagueness and retreat in times of battle to the bosoms of their tanned revolutionary women. Fentimans is a good British brand, and lets face it with name like Fentiman you know their cola is kosher. Plus it's got a picture of a faithful German shepherd dog on the label.

Good dog, that's a good good dog.

Porridge w/ Maple Syrup

This morning's breakfast was brought to you by Café Sol at the corner of Clare Street (and Canada). I love porridge. In fact I love porridge more than eggs for breakfast, but porridge, can be divil to get right. This mornings porridge was lumpy and had a faint powdery texture to it. I was disappointed. It think porridge should have a nutty bite and not taste like flour. I was disappointed because I've had lunch in Café Sol and it's been a pleasure, plus the staff are nice. If you go there I recommend the crayfish and rocket sandwich.

I'm constantly struggling to understand how porridge, a food which as probably been around as long as agrarian society, can still be treated as badly in the kitchen as a tinker bride who's burned the sausages.

Porridge brings out the Scottish accent in me incidentally, especially salted porridge or whisky'd porridge (which brings out the morning drunk in me also).

Eggs benedict al Fresco

Ah, breakfast outdoors with the paper and a catch up with old friend. Plus I got to see some lesbians kissing in the street and one of them was hot. I think she like me too. I could tell by the way she pretented to completely ignore me; but I knew.

Food outdoors in ireland is normally limited to burgers bought from a van on all ireland final day, or ham sanwiches and flaskes of tea on same day. I specifially asked to be seated and served outdoors on Saturday to enjoy the fine weather although I'm always a little wary of beggers when eating outdoors especially around tourist areas. Not that I mind how they make a living but I am trying to eat after all, it's dangerous, they might lose a hand if it strays too close to my plate.

Ham is better than spinich, fact.

Post Script on BdJ's blog

Gets boring after she stops turning tricks. Read October 2003 to September 2004, after that it reads like a christmas letter from a relative who's lost her marbles.

Breakfast du Jour

I'm reading belle du Jour's blog on my iPhone on the train commute these days. I know, seven years too late and all that. Why am I reading it on the train? Mostly because it's not the sort of thing one reads at work. I wish my blog was that interesting, or even that well written.

It turns out now she's a pediatric cancer expert, wow! There's a quote from Polanski's Chinatown I'm reminded of;

"Politicians, ugly buildings, and whores all get respectable if they last long enough."

Still, If I ever met her I might instantly jump in to condescending moral high tones. Not the finger wagging sort of thing, "think of what your doing to society blah blah blah. More the, "well that's your opinion on your body and you're entitled to it; unfortunately you're a brasser and your opinion doesn't count."

Not really. I think there would be a "Brooke, if you were stuck for cash why didn't you write to me? I would have given you sacks of gold for nothing!" Santa Claus type fantasy. But then we'd be all the poorer for not having read her mucky blog. By the way I'm not entirely sure that this isn't still an elaborate (double) hoax. I mean it's perfect timing when ones book sales start to fall to finish on the conjurers "prestige". It doesn't matter anyway; I can never tell the difference between the truth and a good story.

I'm curious about two things. I wonder would she have turned to prostitution had she finished her PhD on time. Reading her diary she doesn't strike me as the sort who would drag her heels on writing up, I might be wrong but bare in mind the caliber of her writing. I also wonder why she stopped. I mean to say, if the lifestyle and the money was so great, why not keep going. She stopped after all long before she was outed. Maybe she'll get the that at some point later in her blog. A lot of criticism leveled at Dr Magnanti is that she glamorises prostitution. I'm not sure she does, her blog makes me want to be a blogger, not a prostitute, but then that's just me.

Still, unless I want to end up on the game; I'd better get a move on.

Kippers and Marmalade on Toast

There's a hole in my roof. I had to wait for a roofer to come and have a look at it. I took the opportunity to have one of my favourite breakfasts: kippers.

Well one kipper to be exact. Normally I would eat my kipper with a slice of brown bread, but I was short of brown bread today so I had white bread toasted and covered in marmalade. There's a cliche about marmalade and kipper but I've forgotten exactly what it is.

There's a very Scandinavian fishermen feel to any smoked fish for breakfast. It's the kind of breakfast a giant blond named Lars or Magnus with a rugged face would sit down to beside his uncannily beautiful and well behaved, eugenically selected children. In the meantime Freya his wife, who once starred in an insanely boring pornographic movie, smokes up another batch in her Nordic woolen wear.

My girlfriend doesn't like kippers and possibly doesn't like the fact that I like kippers. They are quite strong owing to their smoked and oily nature (smoked herring). I've been told that my skin smells of kippers after eating too many of them, but I suspect it's either my breath, or the entire house that smells. Neither of which are really all that desirable when you think about it. I don't care. I'll be dining on my trawler with my fishermen friends all the day bobbing along on the ocean waves, happy as a seal.

No Nutella

Never. Never, I tell you.

Homemade Muffin and Coffee from the Train Station

Threw away the muffin as, although it was delicious, I had literally bitten of more than I can chew for that time in the morning. Plus, I'm not a fan of chocolate in the morning. It feels very German. God knows grandpop didn't fight a war so we would end up eating chocolate instead of eggs in the morning.

Might try Nutella tomorrow.

Eggs Florentine (A.K.A. Mostly Butter, A.K.A. Egg with a Side of Egg Sauce)

The Breakfast of champions list goes; eggs Benedict, eggs Florentine, poached eggs on toast. As it happens that's also the the order of how unhealthy they are for you.

Sunday morning's breakfast.

The Hollandaise was a little tart (insert your favourite joke about those lefty liberal Dutch here), this was probably due to the large sized half a lemon I used. I also forgot to add cayenne pepper, and ballsed out on pouring in all the melted butter.

I'm aware of a story that the 'Florentine' bit refers Catherine de Medici of Florence and her predilection for spinach at the court of her husband Henry II of France. I'm not sure if this story is true. I don't care, for all intents and purposes: this is an American dish.

Two 500mg Paracetamol Tablets (Taken with 355 ml of Water)

Pills and liquor; I've turned into Betty Ford.

A walk

No breakfast today, just like those high powered professionals and anorexics. Walked to the train station too.

I did manage to accomplish quite a bit of work this morning however, plus purchase a meat thermometer at €7.75 (+ 21½ % VAT). There was a digital version which was over twice the price and needs batteries. People just love a digital read out.

Double Poached Eggs, Two Slices of White Bread Toast, and an Inch and a Half of Water in the Laboratory

Apparently there was a leak in the lab last night. It wasn't discovered until six in the morning by the cleaners. They mopped up an inch an a half of water from the lab corridor, two professors' offices, an office full of postdocs (who sadly couldn't swim) and our other lab. They did a good job. There's almost no evidence of the leak except for damp carpets in the offices and a few puddles underneath machines that they couldn't wet-vac under.

Luckily, we keep all the cables off the floor. I.e. there was a safety audit a few weeks ago and we were told to tie the cables up off of the floor.

As for my 'Adam and Eve on a Raft,' it was hearty and satisfying, although I did overcook one egg. No silly fruit nonsense this time. The toast was white bread, which is girlie bread, but I'm confident enough that it won't turn me into a homosexual.

It's easy to cook eggs; it's very easy to overcook eggs. You need to keep an eye on the time. I overcooked an egg on Saturday when I had a poached egg on a potato farl. An interesting variation on last Wednesday's Poached Egg on Toast. The potato bread was recommended by Dr Griff Griffington (in private communication). I wasn't sure if potato bread could be toasted in a toaster, since I've only ever heard of it being fried. It toasted well, although it took a little longer than wholemeal bread.

There are several methods for cooking poached eggs. This is a massive over complication of one of the simplest things to cook. If you're tempted to buy a fancy egg poaching device then perhaps you should consider saving your money and purchasing a big dashing girl's blouse to wear.

Banana, Croissant and a Cup of Coffee

A french classic (minus the cigarette), with a south-east Asian twist? No, I just grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl on my way out the door then topped it with pastry before a meeting with my colleagues at eleven.

It's all wrong really, bananas for breakfast. There's a pop-artiness about a single banana, very Velvet Underground meets Andy Warhol; something fashionable and therefore not to be trusted.

As for croissants; well they're French aren't they. Which means they're complicated and flaky. Done properly they are very tasty though. However outside the Fifth Republic these little butter bombs are always liable to disappoint. Which is quite like pastis and their women really (both brooding temptresses but better watered down).

The coffee was rank and the meeting was dreadful.

Coffee and a Nutrigrain Bar with Side of Depression.

I disgust myself sometimes. What next? Poptarts? Doughnuts? Pot-Noodle? Where will it all end?

Coffee

This morning I simply had a cup of coffee on the train. Mainly due to the delay yesterday caused by my insistence on a cooked breakfast following an impromptu weekday 'lie in' (standards aren't what they used to be).

I always enjoy the morning banter with my Serb-Iranian friend, and the coffee from his shop at the station is quite good. Having a civilised sized cup is crucial to good coffee. This is particularly so of the disparagingly termed 'Americano' as 8 fl oz means too much water for one shot of espresso.

A proper cup of coffee is always good, but cannot by any stretch qualify as breakfast (unless your are a junkie/fashion-model). Readers can safely assume that every breakfast I eat is washed down with a small cup of coffee. I might take a cappuccino if I eat breakfast out, but that'll normally be about brunch time.

Anyone who knows me, knows I don't believe in or acknowledge the existence of 'brunch'. One either eats breakfast late or skips it and has lunch early. Brunch is just another way for fat Americans to squeeze an extra meal of maple syrup into the day. Bad fatties, bad.

I'm very hungry now, and since I've counted my cup of coffee as breakfast, and I promised my girlfriend I'd have lunch with her; I'm off for some lunch-fast.

Poached Egg on Toast

There's little point in detailing how to cook this. If you haven't poached an egg; look it up. If you haven't made toast; stop reading and ask your valet (or maid) to show you how he (or she) makes your toast.

Eggs should be soft. This is an indisputable fact. If only because everyone is in a rush in the morning.

This breakfast is good if a little light. Good for those who want to lose some weight as you get all the flare of a cooked breakfast with protien and slow release carbohydrates. However, I did start to feel hungry again two hours later, and that was with an extra slice of toast on the way out the door.

Perhaps the solution to bulking up this breakfast looks suspiciously like Eggs Benedict. I'm not going to make Hollandaise sauce on a weekday morning, that would take too long and generally sets the day up for failure from the off. I might make it the night before or get it out of a jar. I'm not sure about either though as the fresh tang of Hollandaise is part of its appeal.