Melt down in Baranof

French toast and the breakfast from hell 

    Breakfast is my least favorite meal to cook. It usually involves getting up earlier than I would like in the morning. I am not a morning person and never have been. The guys usually have to wait a little too long before I actually feed them. In my own defense on the topic of timing, most of us need time to wake up and aren’t ready for a full breakfast until after our coffee or tea. The boys know, if they are hungry, there are plenty of breakfast snacks and I will deliver a hot meal … eventually. This morning I wanted to use fresh herbs from my little herb garden I bought in Petersburg. So I cut fresh rosemary and chives for the fried red potatoes. If only it had been that easy. I decide to complete the meal with sausage and French toast. Jeff had thawed out a nice, thick Texas toast and it is one of his favorites – freedom toast. I hope he enjoyed it, because I’m not making that mess again for a long time. For some reason, submerging bread in a thick, egg-custard concoction is incredibly tedious and not very appetizing to me. Sweet breakfasts make my stomach turn. I realize I may be reporting things that cooks are not supposed to openly admit, but I could care less today. I am not a real cook anyway, I am just pretending to be one for a very small, forgiving audience. 

     When things start going awry, it happens fast, there isn’t a lot of counter space or room to maneuver. Organization, timing, and having ingredients close at hand, but not too close because of the tight quarters is a delicate balance. While cooking, Ty came down for coffee and I handed him the box of 5 dozen eggs and asked him to please get them away from me before I threw them out of the galley. Not long after, Jeff came down to “get something” and I promptly shooed him out because there was not enough room in the galley for both of us. He retells it differently, of course, and it all sounds so dramatic. 

     After what seemed like an eternity of cursing, rushing, flipping, stirring, splattering grease everywhere, and using more dishes than I could count, I announced breakfast was ready and they could come down at their own risk. Then, I hastily went out on deck to my favorite hiding place, striping off my apron, earphones, fleece and burst into tears.