Daddy's Breakfast

Years ago, while attending college, I worked as a waiter in a couple of different restaurants. The nicer kind- not necessarily 4 stars, but getting there.

I was fascinated by the ability of the chefs to do so many things at once, and still produce fine meals that each were carefully prepared and presented.

I watched them often, probably while you were waiting patiently for your coffee, learning to prepare various foods. I started practicing at home.

Michelle most likely married me because she was under the false impression that I would be cooking steaks with exotic sauces, curry chicken, and home made ice cream with pasty cream puffs prepared from scratch after we married.

Oh how she was mistaken. A few years after I had moved on from the food service industry, and married Michelle, the interest waned. Well, more like ended abruptly in a screeching halt. I just didn’t have the time any longer.

Now, my role as chef only materializes on two occasions: 1) Warm summer evenings when I fire up the grill for my dinner specialties: hot dogs, hamburgers, barbecue chicken and grilled Italian sausages, and, 2) Saturday mornings.

Almost every Saturday morning, round about 9AM or so, I fire up the griddle for our traditional “Daddy Breakfast.” I love doing it. My repertoire is somewhat limited, mainly due to wanting to start at 9 and be done by 9:30, but Michelle and the girls seem to enjoy it- and that’s what matters.








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