brinner. (or, brupper, depending on where you’re from.)

Standard

It’s a beautiful little thing when one has breakfast for dinner (or supper. Only weirdos call it supper, though. I digress…) Tonight, my mom and I spent our Saturday evening making homemade pecan waffles and bacon for brinner. It TOTALLY hit the spot. If you haven’t had brinner lately, I urge you to do so as soon as humanly possible. Maybe not tomorrow though, I think someone said something about some snow. Anyway, brinner is probably one of my absolute favorite meals. It’s so very nostalgic. My mom, my brother, and I used to have brinner once a week when I was a kid. My mom use to let us pick out chocolate milk at the grocery store, being that it was a special occasion and all, and we used to all have a job in the kitchen. Bob would pour the milk (chocolate, duh.) and set the table, I would help mom with the bacon or waffles, and mom would fly solo on the egg-making; she definitely knows what she’s doing when it comes to some eggs.

Down the road, in the early days of being a wife, Grant and I made brinner PLENTY of times. It seriously makes you feel like a light-hearted eight-year-old. We would set our brand new little dining room table for two in our little one-bedroom apartment and gaze lovingly into each others’ eyes over banana waffles, over-easy eggs, and a glass of ice-cold milk. Those were the days. (I know, barf.)

Everyone has a meal or type of food that resonates with them in the same way that brinner gets straight to my heart. It brings back innocence, warmth, and comfort like few things in this world can. What’s yours?

pecan waffle

PECAN.WAFFLE. aka, key to my heart-belly. they’re one in the same.

Advertisements