Sunday Morning

So I walked into a local grocery store this morning, to grab a couple of things before work. The moment I entered the aroma awakened my senses with the most amazing smell...

I looked at the cashier at the door and said, "I smell sausage."

She smiled and said, "Yes! The deli guys are making sausage for the lunch crowd."

The smell was heaven. It smelled, I told her, like Sunday morning. When I was a kid, being the last in a line of 5 children, I grew up to the smell of sweet Italian sausage cooking every Sunday morning. On Sunday, my mom would have a big breakfast waiting for her family. There was regularly an array of breakfast foods at my house on Sunday morning. My dad, 100% of Italian descent, would play tennis with his buddies early every Sunday morning and when he arrived home, breakfast was always ready.

Back in the innocence of those days, food was love. We never thought about fat content, calories and gluten. We ate because we were growing kids and my mother made sure we ate well. Sunday mornings were my favorite because it was the best of everything. We always had fresh fruit; cantaloupe, strawberries, blueberries and orange juice as well as toast, assorted danish and pastries, eggs, bacon, pancakes and of course, sweet Italian sausage. Sometimes she even made a breakfast quiche and if you wanted an omelette, my mom would be ready with the frying pan to accommodate.

I was usually the first to rise, my brothers and sisters all teens at the time, would wake later because the yummy smell could wake anyone from a deep slumber no matter how lazy they were. My dad, at the head of the table, ate slowly, with the Boston Globe in front of him and I would happily read the comic page and enjoy the breakfast with my family. Those were some of the happiest memories I have of growing up. It was our very own Brady Bunch moment, and it was part of our routine.

My children love sweet Italian sausage too. Our busy lives today, unfortunately never lent to the innocence of Sunday morning breakfast. When my kids were little there were early Sunday hockey games, lacrosse games or rehearsals to attend, so I tried my best to make Sunday mornings as special as I could. And yes, I cooked the sausage.

It's amazing how that smell this morning brought me such happiness and joyous memories all in a flash.

Frick and Frack are home from college now and you can bet that this Sunday will be special. In fact, I'm making the grocery list now. Be dammed fat, sugar, gluten and calories! I want to make a memory and I think that's far more important, if only for a Sunday morning.

Ray's Last Day

The Super Bowl?

Yeah, it lived up to it as much as I hate to admit it. It was a very reluctant Super Bowl for me and it delivered. The highlights:

• It was a great game. If really good football is being played, it really doesn't matter which side you are on. Of course, everyone always chooses a side they align with to win, but in the grand scheme of things if it aint your team, who really cares? The first half was a complete show of Baltimore dominance. And just when everybody was thinking that this game could be all over, the Gods from up above let their presence be known. And if the Ravens didn't win, there are a lot of people who would be calling foul right now.
• Beyonce. Wow...just wow. She delivered the sexiest, hottest slamming Super Bowl show in recent history. Mesmerized is an understatement, and the Destiny's Child reunion was a nice surprise. Wow, for me,(who's not really a huge Beyonce fan) I'm a huge Beyonce fan. She crushed it and put all those Obama Inagural fraud rumors to rest. Bey is the real deal and her strut and swagger only make me Girl crush harder for her. Hairography anyone?
• Great catches. Flacco and his receivers were all about the connection. And Jacoby Jones? At Times it would seem that they were making catches from the heavens. 

Like my good friend Moog from the 40 year old Virgin would say:

"Its's not about winning football and Cincinnati Bow ties, It's about love and connection..."

Looks like Flacco and his team were deeply in love with each other and just at the right time. Because now the  whole sports world is gonna fall in love with them too. 

The Breakfast Club

What is it about Sunday mornings that screams, "HUGE, FATTY, ARTERY CLOGGING, BREAKFAST"? And if there is a day to pig out on breakfast, Sunday is the one. That photo above is an actual shot of my breakfast yesterday.


And I ate the whole thing.


And now I hate myself. Well, not really, but you know what I mean.

It all started innocently enough. I met my brother-in-law and the kids for breakfast at a great diner/restaurant called The Breakfast Club. The long line snaked outside the door should have been a tip that I was in for a culinary treat. My BIL got there first so we already had a table, and we got right in. No waiting. In my mind, I was going to go with my standard Sunday morning breakfast indulgence: One egg, cheese omelet, a slice or two of bacon and some fruit, but once I looked around I knew this was no standard breakfast joint.

The delightful scent of cooked breakfast meats, mixed with fresh ground coffee was enough to tempt even the strictest of dieters. I looked at the menu, and saw that just about anything your breakfast-loving heart desired could be whipped up. My nephews enthusiastically recommended the steak tips with eggs and home fries, or pancakes, or French Toast....or whatever you so desired. It was then that I knew I was not getting out of there being calorie conscious.

I thought about breakfast sausage...I though about actually eating toast....I though about drinking freshly squeezed orange juice...and I decided to throw caution to the wind and go for broke. Nothing has tasted so good in a long time. You see, normally I splurge at dinner time. I reserve my two splurge meals a week for fantastic dinners out with My Guy, so having a splurge at breakfast was a new and exciting change. I enthusiastically plowed through half of my meal, when my brain informed me that was just about all I could handle, so I put down my fork. As we sat there talking, laughing and enjoying the morning, I would occasionally take another bite. The next thing I know, I'm squirting ketchup on my plate and salting up the home fries like no body's business. Who had I become???

Like the name says, for that brief moment I had become a Breakfast Clubber and I left there feeling happy and satisfied for the entire day. I am surely paying for it today, as my shocked system is on an overload of saturated fats, but it was worth it. And all day today I have a chorus of Simple Minds background music playing in my head..."Don't you forget about me".....

I won't. I promise.