There is no breakfast more utterly delicious in the world than warm Quiche Lorraine. The perfectly baked, flaky-golden, buttery crust and the egg, Swiss cheese, bits of savory bacon and sweet diced onion filling are, simply, sublime.
Sip a glass of dry, bubbly Champagne with it and you might reach nirvana.
That’s in my own humble opinion, of course. I respect that you may not agree with me. In fact, your favorite breakfast in the world might be a crock full of hot oatmeal with butter, brown sugar, cinnamon, and a splash of cream. Or cold pizza. I can respect that, since I’ve indulged in both, but I don’t think the Champagne would pair up well with either of them.
So, what is all this French breakfast pie praise about?
Well, it’s what I just ate to break my fast, along with a sweet, juicy tangerine. No Champagne, but you can’t have everything. It was leftover quiche from yesterday’s restaurant breakfast, the one Mom and I had following my bursitis injections, a sort of hopeful pre-celebration of their success. That Quiche Lorraine was delicious yesterday, but I have to say it was even better today.
I wish my hips were, too, but so far they’re not. I remain in more pain now than before I saw the doctor. Still, enjoying that lovely breakfast two days in a row put me in a sweet mood this morning. I remain hopeful. Hard not to be, really: outside, it’s sunny and cool. The air is almost crystalline. It’s enough to make me feel almost guilty as I read about the sub-zero temperatures, snow and ice much of the rest of the country is suffering through. But this is California. This seriously mild winter weather is why most people decide to settle here.
I don’t really have anything else to write about, today. Just quiche, sunshine and hope. I wish you all the same.