How to Start a Breakfast Club
I think that breakfast is the world’s most contested mealtime of the day. Once perceived as the most important meal, both modern diet culture and globalization has transformed our morning routines into a no-fuss, sometimes tasteless, and often over-caffeinated rise from the dead; a painful reawakening in which we are jolted from a restless slumber to once again face our overstimulating reality.
When I ask my friends what they like to have for breakfast, they say “a banana,” “coffee and yogurt,” or—the most heartbreaking— “I don’t eat breakfast”.
No Frills, No Fuss, No Fun!!
I will admit that I once pursued the no-breakfast breakfast trend. Maybe it was because of my pervious jobs in fitness, where my mind was drowning in falsities of intermittent fasting and the keto diet. Maybe it was the onset of my eating disorder, when I distanced myself completely from the joy of eating and cooking. Or maybe it’s because I continue to live in a city that embodies and epitomizes nothing but instant gratification and fast life. Now that I have left the fitness industry, I want to reclaim my past breakfast rituals, my love for the morning, and begin recruiting new members for my Breakfast Club. Then I hope you can start one, too!
It Began With a Waffle
I have loved breakfast since childhood. This is probably because my previous home has always stood so close to one of the most glorious morning meccas of all-time. The Allegheny Sandwich Shoppe has remained in Pittsburgh’s North Side since 1981. Its dive bar aesthetic and laid-back 80s rhetoric makes it one of the homiest, friendliest, and most perfect ways to start your morning or take refuge in the afternoon. There was a waitress there named Judy (she just moved to Florida) who knew me since I was a toddler. The owner, Nick, and his wife, Helen, are dear family friends; I actually remember calling the place “Nick’s” for years before learning the restaurant’s actual name. In the early mornings, the bar and dining room may not even be half full, but there is a subdued, joyful raucous that fills the musty space. Indeed, Pittsburgh has not forgotten that breakfast is the most important meal of the day.
I recall a larger-than-life, golden brown Belgian waffle approaching my table on a Saturday morning. Plopped on top is what looks like a golf ball-sized scoop of ice cream, but it is butter. The circumference of the little dome begins to melt and fill the surrounding crevasses imprinted by the waffle iron; I eagerly grab the tiny glass pitcher of maple syrup from the center of the table, hold my arm high above my plate, and slowly pour. Shades of caramel glisten in the sunlight, but my hypnotic trance is broken when I hear my mother yelp “stop!” before my plate overflows with sugary delight. I take my butter knife and lovingly meander across the bumpy surface. When adequately slathered, I pick up my shiny pewter fork and use my knife to slice. The edges crunch and give way; a puff of steam rises up from the table: it smells of yeast and sugar… with a whisper of a musky tang I now know as the scent of sourdough. The perimeter pieces are always chewy and slightly bitter, its edges crisped to near-death. But this bitterness does a playful little dance with its partnering flavors and sensations. My tiny taste buds trigger more and more salivating as I continue to chew so that the waffle dissolves on my tongue. The essence of the sourdough thusly fills my mouth, but all is balanced when that jolt of sweet maple resonates through my molars and pulls my lips into an excited, sugar-rushed smile. I go back for more, and I am grateful that this waffle is twice the size of my 12-year-old head.
When my tolerance for sugar began to wane in the wake of my adolescent desire for hops and distilled potatoes, Sunday “morning after” meals with girlfriends were a must. After a rowdy evening and very little sleep (or sometimes none at all), the six of us would make our way down the street and take our seats at the counter. For me, the Tri-River Breakfast: 2 eggs your way (I liked them fried), bacon, and a short stack of silver-dollar pancakes. Even writing about it sends a shiver of pleasure down my spine. Onlookers would watch with amazement as this gaggle of 17 and 18 year-old girls guzzled down orange juice, scrambled for the last bite from a bowl of home fries, and sandwiched sausage patties between two pancakes dripping with syrup, our own take on the McGriddle. Upon this self-induced food coma, we would pay the bill, say goodbye, and stagger back home for a much-needed nap.
Good Day, New York
When I moved to New York in 2013, I tried to keep my breakfast rituals alive. Every Saturday I would wake up early, put on some music (Michael Franti, Van Morrison, and Amy Winehouse were essential) and make my favorite “All-American” breakfast. I’d take a seat on my floor pillow in front of my coffee table, grab the TV remote, and—at 20 years old—put on Spongebob Squarepants. Because Saturday mornings were always for cartoons.
My ex and I enjoying breakfast after a trip to the gym
Young & Hungry
Then I started dating my first serious boyfriend. After some months, he soon began spending weekends at my place, and I excitedly initiated him into my Breakfast Club. I loved to wake up early and surprise him with breakfast burritos, shakshuka, and even acai bowls. I guess it only makes sense that on the day of our breakup 2.5 years later, I made us eggs benedict before breaking the news. Don’t worry, we’re still friends. See a picture of the “breakup benedict” below.
Member Recruitment
On the hunt for new members, I recruited my childhood friend and prodigal musician Rose. After I transferred to NYU in 2015, she and I would have sleepovers almost every Monday night. It became our weekly ritual, a way to beat a bad case of the Mondays. However, what I looked forward to most was the following morning, when I would prepare and pack a small breakfast to carry her through tedious morning rehearsals and lessons. Today we are able to look back on those cold, dark winter mornings rather fondly, recalling our attempts at sleepy conversation and the scent of freshly brewed coffee.
A quick and easy on-the-go breakfast: roasted tomatoes, avocado, smoked salmon, and egg whites
The Breakfast Manifesto
My Breakfast Club boldly states that breakfast is the meal of opportunity. It represents the onset of a new day and our moment to reflect before setting out into this crazy world. We assert that the morning is a time to savor, and we must acknowledge that when we share these rising hours with another, we are at our most vulnerable. Thus there is no better way to make someone feel comfortable and safe than to feed them something from your kitchen, your epicenter of hospitality. Our mission is to serve the most important meal of day with love, attention, and generosity. Your Breakfast club can be as big or as small as you want: one member, two, or more than a dozen. What you eat when the club is in session is whatever you want it to be. This is what makes your Breakfast Club special: the only rules are to cook with attention, nurture with compassion, and feed with love. No matter what you like to eat for breakfast, don’t make it the most forgetful part of your day. Instead, make it the most important.
Recipe: All-American, Almond Flour Pancakes
After playing around with many different recipes, I actually found Bob’s Red Mill Almond Flour to be the tastiest. There’s something about the mellow nuttiness of the pancake that melds so well with maple syrup and tart, fresh berries (Doc’s is my favorite)…Just be sure to play close attention when cooking, because these pancakes will burn quickly!
Ingredients:
Yield: 3-4 pancakes
Time: 15-20 minutes (prep and cooking)
1 cup almond flour
2 whole eggs
1/4 cup water
pinch of sea salt
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp allspice
1/2 tbsp maple syrup
1-2 tbsp neutral oil (canola, vegetable)
Instructions:
Pour 1-2 tablespoons of oil in skillet, heat pan to medium-high
Add all ingredients to large mixing bowl and whisk (don’t stir) together until mixture becomes cohesive with small air bubbles on surface
When skillet feels hot to the back of your hand, pour a circle of batter into pan, 2 inches in diameter
When the surface of the pancake begins to bubble (1-1.5 minutes), flip over with spatula
After another minute or so, remove pancake from skillet to a plate.
If necessary, add more oil to the pan before continuing
Serve topped with fresh fruit and maple syrup and alongside some bacon and eggs!