Breakfast of Champions

Many studies have established that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. It's what gives us that extra boost in the morning and prepares us to take charge and seize the day. Personally, I always thought a double shot from Starbuck's could do the same thing in a more compact and convenient form. Granted, like an infant, when I fail to eat breakfast I get very cranky. Therefore, those scientists must know what they're talking about.

My breakfast in America consisted mainly of me scarfing down a piece of toast or a bagel in my cubicle while checking a plethora of morning voice mails left by angry claimants. That's a pretty positive way to start the day, no?

But weekend breakfasts are much different than the daily kind. Weekend breakfasts are a time for socializing, treating oneself, or hoping that copious amounts of food will cure one's post Friday night binge drinking hangover.

In college my friends and I would frequently wake up after a night of painting the town red, roll out of bed, and stumble to a place where the syrup flows like the amazon, where bacon and eggs come out hot on your plate in less than 20 minutes, where angels sing "rooty tooty fresh and fruity" from the depths of their souls...a place called the International House of Pancakes.

Ah, IHOP an American institution attempting to spread culture to bargain hunters of all ages. Where else can you get pancakes in different styles derived from 3 european countries? So what if the only thing that makes each pancake (actually, more like crepes) different is the type of berry or nutella they're served with?

What I'm getting at is IHOP or any other American breakfast chain (or non chain for that matter) serves the following staples in a weekend brunch or breakfast: pancakes, waffles, eggs, bacon, sausage, omlettes, french toast, breakfast burrito (for most border states), juevos rancheros (oh how I miss thee), eggs benedict, fruit bowl, oatmeal, cereal, bagel with cream cheese, and lox and bagels. You get the picture.

We indulge in these delicious breakfast staples and truly take the variety offered to us in America for granted.

In Ireland, I frequently crave the delicious taste of fluffy, buttermilk pancakes. I miss the comforting feeling of warm, maple syrup. I try to fill the void that has been left by the lack of Bisquick in Ireland as I am forced to eat this for breakfast:



Behold, the full Irish breakfast. The answer to a hungry farmer's prayers on a Sunday morning. The cure of all hungry Irish bellies. The girl next door of breakfasts.

Basically a full Irish breakfast cosists of the following: Eggs, toast, rashers (I still don't really know what part of the pig this comes from), sausage, black pudding, white pudding, baked beans, and a grilled (um..I think?) tomato. Sometimes you'll find it varied and including mushrooms and chips (that's fries to my fellow yanks). And to spice it up even more, many people dip the goods in brown sauce (I still haven't found an American comparison. Think A1 steak sauce but thicker and less tangy).

I think the goal of the full Irish is to see how many different forms of pork can be crammed onto a plate. Excuse me, would you like a side of breakfast with your helping of pig?

I can kiss the days of sweet breakfast foods good bye and in turn, welcome with open arms my future of savory only breakfasts. But pudding is sweet, you argue. WRONG! In Ireland, pudding is pork meat and fat mixed with bread, spices, and oatmeal. There are two forms, black pudding and white pudding. The only difference is that black pudding has blood in it. Mmm...yummy, right? I'm sure you'd trade your Denver omlette for some bloody poser sausage any day right?

But, when in Rome as they say. I've adapted quite well to the full Irish breakfast. I just leave a few items out, like the black pudding and most of the baked beans (baked beans are reserved for the Fourth of July and can only be eaten if made by either my mother or my best friend's mother in my opinion).

Last weekend we were at a restaurant for brunch when alas, I spoted on the menu (dun dun dun) a belgian waffle! My tastebuds nearly jumped off my tounge as they danced in a triumph. As I read the description I noticed that the waffles were served with ice cream. No thank you. A) I'm no longer 5 years old and B) I asked for brunch, not dessert. I settled for a breakfast ciabatta because a) it was different than the full Irish breakfast and B) ciabatta just sounded exotic. Believe me, it is compared to traditional Irish food. Hell, Tabasco or cilantro or puree are words that just sound so pretty to me lately.

So the bottom line is, breakfast in Ireland is boring. Hands down, it just is. Ireland is great at many other things, but I truly think the ball was dropped on breakfast. Literally, that's probably what happened.

So please if you're feeling generous, send over a box of Bisquick. Hopefully the postal service won't mistake it for some kind of powdered, illegal substance or Anthrax. In the meantime, I'll be on the hunt for a waffle maker.