The word ‘breakfast’ comes from the late Latin disjejunare, meaning ‘to un-fast’ or break the fast of the evening. Remarkably, the word was contracted in the Romance languages to disnare or disner in Olde French, or dinner in English. Thus the word dinner actually means breakfast. But the word is not recorded in English until 1463 in a royal account book that records expenses for breakfast, but it is not entirely clear whether this was an early dinner or another meal, the one we know know as breakfast, eaten first thing in the morning.
—Food in Early Modern Europe, Ken Albala
Waking up hungry, and going out of nowhere comes this idea that strucks me about a great breakfast. Who has not make breakfast a wonderful routine each morning? Some say to never leave the house with an empty stomach. Some say to always have a balanced breakfast before any activites is concluded. Some think that its an urge and one should force themselves to eat breakfast, even when they would rather not.
Well as for me, I find myself lucky. Stricted by no rules, i can eat and cook myself whatever I want to. Any breakfast theory that constraint certain time, health, calorie-restriction, and modern life style would not against me and my freedom to choose my breakfast. And this morning, glancing at the beauty of the rice fields I live surround, I rave for a full breakfast. In my mind, there goes this picture of American Breakfast.
Straight ahead, I packed my rattan basket, and stroll to this meat shop in town, Indoguna, with my scooter. Picking all these ingredients, freshly packed meatloaf, zuchinni, mushrooms, creme, and brown bread.
In my so-called laboratory (that’s how I see my kitchen), I placed all the ingredients of this meal I am raging for. There goes several eggs, spices, creme, the bread, zuchinni, mushrooms,. And for perfection, I made me a cold, fresh, and tasty fresh vegetable juice, mixed with Oranges.
