Breakfast
It is late in the morning when I decide to prepare a proper breakfast. Several hours earlier, I had consumed a hefty bowl of oatmeal with a little brown sugar, granola, and milk; it felt as if the oatmeal slurry was a misplaced prescription for health improvement as I am conscientious of my cholesterol (some of the time).
I fill an electric kettle with filtered water and switch it on. From the pantry I remove a single bag of Ceylon tea. I walk back into the kitchen to remove a large, white mug from a cupboard. The tea bag is lowered into the empty mug.
There are four strips of defrosted bacon on a shelf in the refrigerator. I preheat a greased-cured cast iron pan on the glass stovetop; I feel that the cast iron pan is a disenfranchised ally of a more appropriate cooking medium, a natural gas flame or open wood fire. With the palm of my hand I test the pan for heat. I’m impatient though I recognize it is too soon to layout the bacon strips.
As the pan absorbs the heat from the glass top, I remove an opened package of cherry tomatoes from the refrigerator and begin slicing a dozen or so. I set the cutting board with the tomato slices on the kitchen table and mentally remind myself that I would like to season the vegetable with fresh, ground pepper.
The water is brought to a boil and the electric kettle automatically clicks off. I pour the hot water overtop of the Ceylon tea bag. The bag floats. From the drawer I employ a tea spoon to drown the tea bag in the bottom of the large, white mug.
The pan has enough heat, so I retrieve the four strips of bacon from the refrigerator and lay the strips out in the pan. They begin to sizzle. My hunger is salient. However, I turn down the heat of the glass top element as I anticipate the bacon may burn; often the cast iron pan absorbs more heat than is required to cook its contents.
On the counter near the electric range is bread bag with half its contents depleted. I remove the bread bag tag and remove two pre-cut slices of white bread. The toaster is on the kitchen table, against the wall. Two slices of bread are slotted, but I do not depress the carriage lever. I retie the bread bag and leave it on the counter.
I inspect the bacon. Its too soon to flip the slices.
The Ceylon tea bag is spooned out of the large, white mug and placed on the sink’s basin divider. Tea from the saturated bag spill into both basins of the sink. In a cupboard I retrieve a small tea cup used to house plain, white sugar. The cup is partially covered with stretch wrap. Without disturbing the stretch wrap, I remove half a teaspoon of sugar and mix the granules into the steeped Ceylon tea. I tap the spoon on the lip of the large, white mug and place the tea spoon on the surface of the counter.
I preheat another pan on the stovetop. This pan is constructed with Teflon — modern. From the cupboard nearby I remove a small plate, on it resides a dull knife and a deformed rectangle of butter. I use the knife to shave off a portion of butter to grease the Teflon pan. I place the small butter plate on the kitchen table.
From the refrigerator I retrieve a carton with two large eggs remaining. I crack the eggs over the melted butter in the Teflon pan. The four slices of bacon are flipped. The empty egg carton is set in the recycling bin. I wait. Cooking is waiting.
I set the large, white mug of Ceylon tea onto a coaster upon the kitchen table. I remind myself there is milk that needs to be consumed. So I remove a carton of milk from the refrigerator and add the white liquid to the mug of tea. The cascade of milk approaches the surface of the tea and I stop pouring in milk. The carton of milk with stowed in the refrigerator, and I use the spoon on the counter to stir my tea.
A small plate, identical to the one with the deformed butter, is removed from a cupboard. I lay out several, folded sheets of paper towel. The grease will be removed from the four strips of bacon. The bacon continues to sizzle and the expelled grease is pooling in the cast iron pan.
The eggs have begun cooking together at which point I sever them with a flipper and slide them apart in the pan. I allow the eggs a brief moment to cook before I flip them.
I depress the toaster’s carriage lever.
The temperature knob for the cast iron pan’s element is turned off. With a fork I remove the cooked bacon from the cast iron pan and place the strips on the small plate with the bed of paper towel. I tear off two more halves from a roll of paper towel and dab the bacon grease. The bacon is left covered with paper towel. With a tea towel to protect my left hand, I reposition the cast iron onto a cold, unused stovetop element.
I remove, from a cupboard, a third plate, identical to the bacon and butter’s. With my left hand I remove the Teflon pan and slide the cooked eggs onto the small plate; the handle of the pan is insulated — modern. I place the plate of eggs on the kitchen table near the sliced cherry tomatoes. I almost forgot to turn off the element used to heat the Teflon pan. The knob is twisted off.
The top layer of grease-soaked paper towel is removed and disposed. I place the plate containing the four strips of bacon onto the kitchen table. I take only two slices and set the bacon onto the plate with the eggs.
Before I take a seat at the kitchen table, I raise the large, white mug of tea and proceed to take a sip. I take another. The mixture’s taste is good, not too dilute with milk, not too sweet from sugar.
The toaster pops. At that moment I take a seat at the kitchen table and gather the toast. The two slices of toast are lightly buttered and set on the plate containing the bacon and eggs. I sip my tea.
I think about my cholesterol, and then I proceed to eat my breakfast.
