So I mentioned in my last post that we made breakfast reservations here during our trip to San Diego. Part of me thought to myself, “Uh…Reservations? For Breakfast? PSHAW!” But in the end I caved to the pretentiousness because, as you may or may not know, breakfast is my absolute favorite meal when it comes to dining out. No contest. Sure I love lunching with the best of ‘em, and I never mind not having to cook dinner, but there is just something so decadent about rolling out of bed and having someone else take care of your first meal of the day while you lounge sleepily over coffee. So that being said, you would think I would be excited about this super fun breakfast outing — and I mean I am, don’t get me wrong — but each time I go out for breakfast I get hand-wringing anxiety over one major conundrum: Do I order Savory or Sweet?
I know. I’m lame.
You see, I really do not have a sweet tooth. Of course I have my favorite sweet things, I’m not saying I never indulge, but 9 times out of 10 if you offered me a bag of potato chips or the World’s Most Beautifully Hand Crafted Dessert, I’d shamelessly snatch that bag right out of your hands and go running, leaving the sweet stuff behind in the dust. Call it a salt tooth, call it a character flaw, call it whatever you want, but when I have a craving it is fiercely for salty carbo-liciousness and the dessert decadence can more or less take a hike. Reason # 917 why the South Beach Diet? Is not even a feasible reality in my world (See also: #918: Laziness and #919: Rage Towards Anyone Telling Me What To Eat). The problem is, for some unknown reason every time I open a breakfast menu and see French Toast! Strawberry pancakes! Berries and Cream! and immediately turn into a kid in a candy store:
MUST. HAVE. SUGAR.
But I am never satisfied with a sweet breakfast. Ever. The only small exception to that rule is when Garrett and I go to Tower Cafe — and then we must split an order of their French Toast because it is a thing of wonder, people. But even then, I still have to order my own breakfast and in lieu of toast split the order of one slice of the French Toast because seriously, there is no more awful feeling than ordering some variation on nutella stuffed french toast or pancakes dripping in some fruit compote concoction and having it arrive delicately on the plate right next to Garrett’s plate of eggs, bacon, hashbrowns, sourdough toast with just a hint of salted butter, and SOMEONE BRING ME A SALT LICK BECAUSE THIS SWEET ASS SHIT JUST AIN’T GONNA CUT IT. HULK IS HANGRY!
It just kind of ruins the relaxing vibe of lounging over coffee, ya know?
(You think I’m kidding, but ask Garrett, he has been there. And although he lived to tell about it, it was only barely.)
So one would think, Holly, you know yourself. You are never happy with sweet breakfasts, so the simple answer is just don’t order them. But people, the siren song of sugary breakfast in the morning is a hard one to resist. I don’t know why, probably because I don’t ever have nutella, or boysenberry syrup, or ollaliberry bread pudding with cinnamon cream sauce on top at home EVER, so part of me feels like this may be my only chance! It could also be the years of torture I endured as a child (ha!) when my parents made me eat Grape Nuts and (if I was lucky) Kix when all I really wanted was Count Chocula and Trix and all the other normal cereals my friends’ parents let them eat.
But all that is neither here nor there, because I think I may have found the solution: The Monte Cristo Sandwich. In short, it is a melty ham, turkey, and cheese sandwich served between two pieces of french toast style bread. Sweet and Savory. I told this to Garrett and he kind of crinkled his nose, and I agree, it sounds a bit untraditional — but hell, the sandwich has been around for ages and lots of people love it so it can’t be awful, can it?? I am crossing my fingers that this will solve my problem and I will never have to hand-wring again, but just in case I made sure to pack an outfit that will look cute on the off chance I start to turn green.