Vacation Breakfast

From Views from the Carrot Condo by Trista Cornelius

June 18, 2010

Yesterday was my first day of summer vacation, my stomach knew it, and she refused to palate oatmeal for breakfast—my staple for breakfast since September:

I’d come home from yoga, cut dried apricots or mango while waiting for a cup of water to boil, add a 1/2 cup of Bob’s Red Mill organic old-fashioned oats, then let it simmer while I took my shower. Wrapped in a towel, I’d run into the kitchen, turn off the heat, stir in the dried fruit, and let it all cool, so by the time I was dressed, I could sit, eat, and get out the door to work. Efficient, healthy, filling, and comforting.

This morning, however, the idea of my mechanized oatmeal ritual made my stomach rebel. She wanted savory. She wanted vacation food. She wanted a treat.

So, what to do? Take myself out to breakfast? No—I feel lonely enough sometimes during my long days at home alone, no need to accentuate it by eating out by myself. Toast? Boring. Muffins or cake left behind by a guest? Even on vacation that’s too sugary. Sweet potato? Ugh. I rummage through every cupboard, drawer, the refrigerator, and the freezer twice. The only thing that turns up is an avocado. Slice it in half, sprinkle it with salt, and eat? This often works for me, but not today; it’s too cool and overcast for a method better saved for tropical beaches and bikinis. Finally, disparate parts of the not-so-well stocked kitchen come together: 1/2 cup of masa harina left in the freezer, lime, kale, avocado.

Masa harina is basically cornmeal flour. Add some water, lime zest, and a little salt, stir, and then pour onto a skillet like a pancake. The batter consistency makes the difference between a corn tortilla and a gordita. I was going for the gordita, a fat tortilla, two actually.

Once browned on one side, I flipped over my two gorditas and added some shredded kale to the skillet. Once both gorditas looked brown and crispy on the outside, I sprinkled on a little nutritional yeast, slid the gorditas onto a plate, topped them sloppily with the barely-sautéed kale, and chopped the avocado on top of that.

Golden maize with flecks of gecko green, shady forest green, and seafoam green displayed on the perfect plate I chose without trying, the plate my friend painted with a woman’s face with green eyes and green hair. One of her eyes peeps out above the pile of kale and watches me skeptically just like my turtle does as she paces behind me in her cage wondering what smells so good.

The breakfast is fine! After the exterior crunch of the gordita, the dough is soft and warm and mixes well with the chewy kale and silky avocado; lime zest and salt infuse the each bite making breakfast feel as refreshing as a cocktail at the end of a long day. The green of it all reminds me of swimming with sea turtles in Hawai’i as they grazed the seaweed, watching the Wizard of Oz when I was six years old at the public library after earning a ticket by reading enough books in the summer (I loved the Emerald City); the plate makes me think of my friend, my turtle plops into her water bowl to soak for a bit, and I no longer feel the list bit lonely.

PS: I just have to brag about dinner too. After at least two months of no motivation to cook, I’m inspired again. I made Maple-Glazed Tofu with Quinoa and a side of diced sweet potato sautéed with cinnamon, fresh grated ginger, and raisins and tossed with kale.