Sunday breakfast is usually my travail, unless we eat out for brunch. This morning I served toasted New York bagels, Philadelphia cheese and smoked salmon, sprinkled with dill. Two soft-boiled eggs in a glass, spiked with drops of Tabasco to make for these Flaming Lips, and Elgar's coffee (out of the cafetiere, add a shot of Kahlua, into stylish coffee glasses, topped with vanilla-laced whipped cream) make the feast nearly complete. But today I even left a single red rose on the serving tray. Only to collect the reward thirty minutes later.
Great (Palm)Sunday everyone!
Great (Palm)Sunday everyone!
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