I was just talking to my cousin, Sam, who is a doctor working in Kansas City. I promise that not everyone is my family is named Sam - just my cousin and my son, who is named after my cousin, who is named after Sam Kinneson, the late comedian and, according to my cousin, misunderstood genius. (Cousin) Sam is in his residency as an ER doc and pulling some weird shifts. I asked him if, before a 6pm shift, he eats breakfast or dinner.
This is something I've wondered before: are meal types determined by where they fall in relation to the rest of our day, or by where they fall on the clock? Also, when did people start eating specific food just for breakfast? In the old days, on the farm, people ate fried chicken and everything else for breakfast. It was truly the most important meal of the day. Then, I guess people on the farm started eating steak and eggs, then didn't have time for the steak and just ate the eggs, etc. Maybe some people realized, "Hey - when I eat these huge breakfasts, I end up on the pot all day." Who knows.
So, what about all of the people who work the night shift? Do they continue to eat breakfast after the shift is over and dinner right before they go to work? For many of us, our stomach can't handle something heavy right after waking up. So do they have to wake up from a long sleep and stumble into the kitchen for some hot coffee and jambalaya? Or spaghetti? On the other end, after a long day's work, do they hook up with friends for a beer and some Fruity Pebbles?
I happen to love breakfast for dinner. It was a Sunday night staple in our house, growing up. Everytime I have hot biscuits with butter and syrup, I hear the theme to "Murder, She Wrote."
As for the night shift folks, I don't know what to tell you. I guess you're screwed.
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5 comments:
Isn't it funny how society has shaped and screwed us over. As a fan of eating, I don't care. I eat what I want, when I want. If that means I want a steak at 8 am or scrambled eggs at 2 pm, then that is the way it is.
Society wants us to conform and to shed our individuality. If you examine your life, you notice that we usually do and we don't even notice that we are doing it. Just look at the way we dress, the vehicles we drive, and the way we talk.
I am all for bucking the system and doing things your own way.
AB
Funny, I was just commenting the other day how much I have grown to hate breakfast for dinner (as my wife slaved over the waffles at 8:30pm). Used to love it, now it just doesn't do it for me. I think it really comes down to my recently acquired hatred of scrambled eggs.
We had a men's meeting at the church on Saturday mornings where we were watching Band of Brothers and then applying that to our need to grow together as the men of the church. Cheesy yes, but it had its moments. Anyway, we decided the cheapest way to feed eggs to 85 men would be to buy Egg Beaters. You know, the eggs that come in a little yellow milk carton. Now, if you have never had the experience of consuming an Egg Beater, count yourself very fortunate. They're effective for say...breakfast burritos, or for cooking purposes, but just to eat as eggs on a plate could not have been the original intention. So I was already hating this experience, but I was hungry enough to try and make due. Then Ned sat down beside me.
Ned is an older man, nice guy, but not someone you want to spend a significant amount of time talking to. That sounds rude, well..who am I kidding, that is rude, but it's just the truth. He and I talked about baseball and freshly mowed grass and fishing for Carp with old molded bread, you know, the usual, and I was just trying to finish this gold and yellow concoction on my plate so that I could go find a more enthralling conversation. Then the unspeakable. Ned procedded to pull out a bottle of mustard from his pants pocket (don't ask) and drenched his eggs, correction, his Egg Beaters, in this mustard. It disgusted me from the very beginning, but only when the smell hit me was it official.
That is the most disgusting thing I have ever seen. Seriously, you couldn't even see the eggs for all the pounds of mustard atop. And the smell, nasty eggs and toxic mustard, I literally gagged. I got up from the table and walked outside to keep from tossing my recently consumed beaters all over the table.
This was the summer of 2004. I have not eaten a scrambled egg since.
I think the anonymous comment above yours is from Kerry Kilgore. I'm pretty positive.
B
Right you are, BT.
KK
If you've never seen Kilgore gag, it's an experience. I agree on the eggs though. Otherwise, I'm all over breakfast any hour of the day. Especially up late. 1 am at a downtown Austin breakfast dive. Greatness.
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