Breakfast is served!
I saw berries I have never seen before. Golden raspberries, for example. All kinds of exotic offerings. I am not a morning person, but fresh berries with cream and Splenda was a dish that made getting out of bed worthwhile.
Of course, the food had to be posed and photographed before it could be consumed. Thank God no video exists of me, bleary-eyed and shiny-looking, experimenting with camera angles. I was quite happy to find the berries cooperative and the sweetpea bouquet (can you believe that was $3.00?) to be a fabulous backdrop.
Alas, man cannot live on berries alone — and neither can woman, so I plopped some bread into the toaster, made up some cinnamon Splenda, boiled a couple of eggs, and added a little protein and a few carbs to the morning’s meal.
In their little egg cups, all dressed with butter and salt and pepper, the eggs were almost too cute to eat. I say almost. After all the hard work involved in making and arranging the little critters, they were going down the hatch.
Having been fortified with a nutritious breakfast, we were feeling sufficiently energetic to make the trek, once again, to Pike Place Market. Another day, another set of ingredients to buy, fish to smell, flowers to fondle.
If you’ve never visited it before, the Market is a bit hard to imagine. It beckons to you like pollen to honeybees, drawing you inexorably into its crowded halls, where tourists mingle with townies and wide-eyed cruise ship passengers fresh from the dock. It feels alive in a way few places on earth do.
On this day, however, there was little time to dally. Back at the condo there was cooking to be done.
Departing the Market was not an easy task, however. Just as we prepared to take our leave, this spectacle sent an unmistakeable subliminal message: “…but wait, there’s more!”
Frankly, I think the cat was a little weirded-out by the dude’s hat, but I don’t speak in feline tongues, so I am merely guessing.
By the time we arrived back at gourmet central (our humble abode for the duration of our stay), we were famished. All this food and what the heck did we have to EAT? Leftover angel hair pasta. Throw a little butter and olive oil in a warm skillet with a heap of minced garlic, cook until the butter is melted and the garlic is aromatic, toss in the pasta, top with Italian cheeses and parsley. Oh, yeah, baby. That’s what I’M talkin’ about!
We felt sufficiently revived to be safe playing with knives again.
Wondering why we didn’t simply use more of the pesto cream sauce on our pasta? Its because we are not culinary recidivists, my little lovelies. We were there to expand upon our repertoire, not experience the same dishes twice, no matter how delectable they might have been the first time. Besides, we had other designs on the leftover pesto, as you will soon see.
Bring on the next meal!
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