It feels like autumn today. The sky is that impossibly deep blue that you usually only see in late September through October. The air is cool, and that makes me hungry for something more substantial than a slice of melon or a croissant. Pictured above is the response to that hunger. Ordinarily, i confine my penchant for taking pictures of my meals to my Facebook page, thus testing the endurance and depth of my friendships with a large group of people, many of whom i've never met outside of cyberspace. But today i thought i would invite that far more exclusive group of self-chosen followers of this blog to join me in celebrating the wonderful ritual of Sunday breakfast.
I'm not a religious person, but i am given to a fondness for rituals and arcane beliefs. The Sunday-morning pilgrimage to the farmers market is one of those rituals and out of it has sprung a deeply-felt belief in what i like to call "the miracle of the caloric transformation." According to this belief, anything purchased from the farmers market and consumed on the sabbath, is absolutely and utterly devoid of fat-content (and very low in over-all calories). If you share this belief, or would at least like to give it a theological spin around the block, please join me in having something absolutely delicious for your Sunday brunch. I had creamy brie layered with blue cheese generously slathered over slices of baguette, heirloom cherry tomatoes, plum Danish, café au lait, and a glass of San Pellegrino mineral water. Did i mention that i am also a great believer in indulging oneself in the occasional small luxury? I will happily return to six days of black coffee and shredded wheat for breakfast, knowing that the on seventh day there will be pastries. Amen! Go in peace!