Can I just tell you how good it felt this morning to sit long over breakfast with a table of relaxed and hungover grownups while the happy play sounds of my girls and second grader Augie and his little helium voiced toddler sister floated down to us from upstairs? It felt like something I don't often get to do.
We had smoked salmon on bagels, fruit, two quiches Randy made yesterday (perhaps suspecting that he would stay up til 3:00 am with Bobby watching a Planet of the Apes marathon alternating with a commercial laden Godfather II and so be unable to do much of anything this morning), Christina's left over cornbread cranberry muffins and her mashed potatoes now fried up and enjoyed all over again. These mashed potatoes, I got to tell you. Christina said she used shallots and sage and butter and cream and some grapeseed oil, but there must have been something magic too - amazing.
Actually, "amazing" was a word we used a lot last night, from describing the extravagant and earnest musical compositions for hire created by Rodney Eskelin to trying to put our finger on the experience of Julie's sister Amy's persimmon cognac cake. But if last night was amazing, this morning was lovely. The extended breakfast ebbed and flowed, as mimosas were concocted and a pomegranate split (Christina showed us how to whack it with a wooden spoon beforehand to loosen up the seeds), until it felt like a couple of meals, first and second breakfasts perhaps, or post-breakfast brunch.