(A few weeks ago my brother wrote a guest post, and someone at home felt left out. Please enjoy this note from my husband — he took these photos himself and insisted on natural light. He asked me nicely to let him post it.)
When my brother-in-law Will wrote a guest post, I figured it was my turn. It wasn’t about competing for attention — it was about balance. Will is charming (more charming than Jess, but not quite as charming as the other brother-in-law), and his post was hysterical, but it didn’t quite hit the “manly” tone he seemed to aim for. If you’ve read it, you know what I mean: he managed to make ground turkey sound like a dating profile. Still, it was great and captures his spirit perfectly.
Obviously Jess forgetting to ask me — her husband — to write a post had to be an oversight, and I decided to fix it. What deserved attention? Ground turkey tacos? Been there. My NASCAR die-cast collection? Done that. Mounted wild turkey trophy? Yep. I settled on something different: my behavior in the mornings. If you asked Jess, two words would describe it best: train wreck.
Another good comparison is a bear waking from hibernation.
Below are some of the walls I walk into and the steps I stumble down on a daily basis.
Look… a crock pot on the floor, ready to be kicked.
Funny timing — this appeared in the middle of the floor right after I told Jess we had life insurance and joked I might be worth more to her dead than alive. Coincidence? You decide.
By this point in the morning, I’m starving. I’ve navigated countless booby traps and I need protein — I haven’t eaten in like eight hours. I support charities that feed the hungry because I know the feeling. In fact, I’m hungry right now.
I go through phases where I eat the same thing repeatedly. That was worse when I was single and cooking for myself. Now that I’m married, there’s much more variety — lobster mac and breaded crispy chicken have made it into our rotation. Still, for breakfast I stick to a reliable favorite because someone in this house doesn’t want to wake at the crack of dawn to make elaborate breakfasts. Lately I’ve been in an eggs-and-bagel phase, and since this is a food blog, I’ll share my “special” recipe.
First, I take three jumbo eggs.
Why jumbo? Because I don’t have access to ostrich eggs. Bigger eggs mean more protein, and I’m all about protein.
Next, I Pam the bejesus out of the griddle.
Fact: every square millimeter must be Pam’ed. If you’re not going through at least a can of Pam a week, you’re doing it wrong. When Jess starts shopping at Sam’s Club she can critique my Pam usage — at 5:00 AM.
I crank the temperature high. The hotter the griddle, the faster the food cooks — that’s my logic. If a recipe calls for 350°F for 30 minutes, my math tells me to nudge up the temperature and shave off a bit of time. It sounds scientific, and I once heard something like it on a cooking show. Maybe Rachel Ray mentioned it. Or Giada. Hi Giada, call me.
I crack the eggs, add a little pepper, and get two breakfast weapons going: the griddle and the toaster. It’s 5:10 AM and I’m still half asleep, but men can multitask — we just can’t be expected to listen while a football game, hockey match, NASCAR race, or anything else is on.
Once the eggs are flipped and the bagel is toasted, I spread a small amount of butter on the bagel for flavor.
Then I eat it in approximately 2.2 seconds.
That’s it. To be honest, I enjoyed blogging. It was harder than I expected and I worked at it all day, but it left me satisfied and smiling.
That’s what she said.