In France for Breakfast

How I wish I had the know-how to put a photo with this post.  It will have to suffice to paint the picture of my accomplishment this morning with words, one of my favorite mediums.

I woke up as usual on this Saturday morning and, because Dad (Ric) is in South Africa, Isaac being still asleep, I got on the internet to check for emails from Dad.  I spotted an email entitled "Four course meals" or something like that.  After reading the link, this is what happened:

I cracked three eggs into a bowl, added plenty of canned diced mild green chilis, some milk,  salt, pepper and garlic powder.  I whipped it up and left it beside a waiting skillet.

I then prepared three whole wheat pita pockets for insertion into the toaster. 

I cut in half three slices of deli ham and sliced a few pieces of Swiss cheese and Pepper Jack cheese.  These I laid out nicely on a saucer. 

Looking around at my handiwork, thus far, I increased in bravery and cut up a small amount of iceberg lettuce (sorry, my French friends!) and put some on two small plates.  I put a little bit if grated parmesan cheese and some Mazzotti's famous dressing, each in a small sushi dipping bowl, with a small spoon for a civilized approach to applying the dressing! 

I brought down two small bowls and sliced half a banana in each.  In the microwave, I heated up some chocolate pudding leftover two nights ago.  I spooned that over the bananas and topped it with a few chocolate chips. 

Isaac materialized and looked around the kitchen at a smiling mother and a tablecloth on a clear-off table.  I rescued him by explaining our plan to have breakfast together.  He went and got dressed and we laid out all the lovely things on the table. 

We each had an empty plate before us with a 4 ounce glass of high-pulp orange juice beside it.  In front of us was the plate of toasted pitas, sliced cheese and ham and bowl of freshly cooked scrambled eggs.  Beside us awaited the salad plates, cheese and dressing (spoon set next to the dressing).  The dessert bowls set nearby as well.

After prayer, I explained that before we can have the next "course" we must wait for everyone (that is translated to mean the slow-eating mother) to finish.  We cleared and neatly stacked each set of dishes at the end of the table before bringing out the next. 

The conversation was great and we giggled over the whole French approach to a meal.  Not that I learned this in France, necessarily.  I do see how the Mueller family served in this manner, but I was not observant enough to quantify it.  Now I get it.  In the restaurants, it is more like here.  I actually learned this from Miriam.  Not a surprise that yet again one of my children changes my life.

Some surprises I discovered:  First was the ease in preparation.  Each course had to be small so the amounts being modest took less food than I had thought.  Second, even though more dishes are used, it was a very easy clean up and really, the amount was not that much!  Third is that a teenager will not freak out.  It made conversation quite nice, even the first awkward time we tried it. He even drank all the orange juice (he doesn't like high pulp).  Fourth, I had to accept the fact that things will be said that may upset you.  In this case, as Isaac was clearing the table, he says, "now for the supplement to breakfast!"  I made him do a few chores before he ate again, but he was truly in a great attitude over it all. 

The reason I did this at breakfast time is because Isaac plans on going to a dinner and dance tonight.  It was well worth it.  I want to do that again! 

Amour France!