I think breakfast gets the short end of the stick. Everyone is under the impression that dinner is the romantic meal. Juicy steak, buttery lobster, saucy spaghetti. Then, naturally, dinner is followed by dessert. Dripping with chocolate, sticky sugar, warm and spicy, sweet berries.
What if you could have dessert for breakfast? Forget breakfast for dinner, dessert for breakfast is where it's at. It's cake for breakfast. Do you need further convincing? A stack of fluffy pancakes and melted chocolate chips all drizzled with thick and sugary strawberry syrup.
If you really want to impress your sweetheart this Valentine's Day, make them breakfast. There's nothing better than waking up to the smell of unsolicited bacon. Or being served breakfast in bed complete with a bird of paradise folded napkin. Or a steaming latte topped with the perfect rosetta poured with barista skill. Or sitting down to a plate of perfectly formed heart-shaped pancakes. It's easy to make pancakes from a mix and slather some off-brand table syrup on them but, to show you really mean it, make them both from scratch this year.
It's the little things.
I thought that on this most auspicious day I would share with you mine and Lee's favourite poem. Sometimes no matter how hard you try to express your feelings someone has already beaten you to the punch.
A Rhyme of the Dream-Maker Man
Down near the end of a wandering lane,
That runs 'round the cares of a day,
Where Conscience and Memory meet and explain,
... Their quaint little quarrels away.
A misty air-castle sits back in the dusk
Where brownies and hobgoblins dwell
And this is the home
Of a busy old gnome
Who is making up dream-things to sell,
The daintiest dreams to sell.
He makes golden dreams of wicked men's sighs.
He weaves on the thread of a hope
The airiest fancies of pretty brown eyes,
And patterns his work with a trope.
The breath of a rose and the blush of a wish
Boiled down to the ghost of a bliss,
He wraps in a smile
Every once in a while,
And calls it the dream of a kiss,
The dream of an unborn kiss.
Last night when I walked thro' the portals of sleep
And came to the weird little den,
I looked in the place where the elf-man should keep
A dream that I buy now and then.
'Tis only the sweet happy dream of a day--
Yet one that I wish may come true--
But I learned from the elf
That you'd been there yourself
And he'd given my dear dream to you,
He'd given our dream to you.
-William Allen White
But it is...
I'm not going to show you pictures of what I actually did with this rack of cookies or this plate of cake. That would be weird. Who really wants to see pictures of me stuffing my face messily, repeatedly and, dare I say, uncontrollably?
When you make something yummy your first thought isn't to place it artistically yet casually next to some perfect strawberries or pair it with a jug of milk that you'd never really drink from. And, admit it, some things we make aren't even that pretty.
This is why I spend hours in the kitchen just to bake a simple batch of cookies. 90% of this time is spent making sure my cookies don't look like junk and the other 10% is spent actually baking them.
Food photography can be a tricky business. There are tripods, expensive lenses, reflector panels, all the digital editing and cropping and let's not forget how hard it is to find photo-worthy dishes and utensils.
So yeah, it's contrived. But it's pretty. I'm all about making things pretty. Food bloggers go through a lot of trouble to bring you pictures worthy of mouth watering and stomach grumbling.
These pancakes are pretty. I didn't even need to do much to them. For reals. I just slapped them on a pretty plate, dusted them with powdered sugar, dropped a handful of raspberries on them and slathered them in syrup. Some things are just naturally beautiful.
And after turning off my camera I inhaled them, natural beauty and all. Can you blame me?