It’s been a while since health experts have agreed that breakfast is the most important meal of the day for your nutrition; it is indisputably, however, the most important meal for asserting control over your life. That is what then–staff writer Amanda Mull realized in 2019, when she woke up craving the Italian American alchemy of cutlet, cheese, and marinara. “Hungover and ravenous,” she wrote, she suddenly felt that the restrictive category of “breakfast food” was akin to a middle-school dress code: “unnecessarily prim and preordained by people whose rules I should no longer heed.” So she went out and got a bodega hoagie that she “wolfed down” with “unrestrained joy.” It is possible that you really love your bowl of 2 percent and bran flakes, or that you eat it because it’s quick and easy. It’s also possible that you eat it just because you’ve been told it’s the right thing to eat. Amanda’s essay examines how the modern American breakfast canon crystallized, and—surprise!—it’s largely thanks to decades of work by marketers. Amanda’s transgression inspired a bunch of readers to write in with other heterodox breakfasts: pâté with horseradish cheese, salads, soups, a daily slice of peach pie dribbled with milk. These are the enlightened. Breakfast, it turns out, can be anything you want it to be. In fact, many cultures across the world just eat, you know, whatever they eat the rest of the day. But you should start with the chicken parm (eggplant will do, too). It’s hard to imagine a food that flies more extravagantly in the face of bran flakes and the advertisers who presume to plan your morning. Think of it as your launchpad to breakfast freedom. I tried the chicken-parm start one weekend, and it unlocked heretofore unknown measures of breakfast innovation. Fine: The day after, I had the remaining two-fifths of a chicken parm for breakfast. But the day after that, I ate shrimp in green mole, and the next, a piece of pita with hummus and some carrots. When I finally had cereal, it was because I wanted to. Quantifying creativity, let alone agency, is hard, but on those days, as the post-breakfast hours passed, I swear I felt myself thinking a bit more outside the bowl. Let me know how it goes, and I’ll see you next week at 9 a.m. in your time zone. |