Family memory — more my mother's than mine — has me toddling down the hallway of a relative's lake home to summon my grandfather for breakfast, with a pudgy one year old's stuttering steps and a notable inability to pronounce my "r's." "Beakfast Weddy Gampa" became part of our personal shorthand and perhaps explains my inordinate affection for the first meal of the day.
Extraordiary breakfasts are the subject of my latest Bloom column — and I have really lucked into some wonderful ones lately. That beauty in the photo was the breakfast at our amazing hotel, the U Zlate Studne, in Prague this last December — great cheeses, perfect pastries, and the best damn yogurt I have ever had.
Oh yeah, and a dynamite cup of hot chocolate.