I can’t make up my mind whether or not whoever came up with the concept of the breakfast buffet should be punished or praised. What I mean is, while I really appreciate having a wide selection of breakfast treats to choose from, I don’t like having to share the experience with others.
There’s a hint of cumin in one of the loaves at the bread counter. I love cumin in bread. Especially when you toast it. It makes every other kind of bread taste meh.
I get a little paranoid just before picking up the serving spoon so I can get me some of them tasty baked beans in tomato sauce. No breakfast buffet is worth a mention without this tremendously underrated dish. But thinking of all the unwashed, nose and ass-picking fingers of people that have handled the spoon before me, certainly takes away some of the culinary excitement.
A sunny side up fried egg placed on cumin flavored toast and topped with baked beans in tomato sauce, will probably always be a favorite breakfast.
The hotel we’re staying at has a decent breakfast buffet, but between 8:30 and 9:30, it’s nerve-wracking chaotic in the dining hall. Hundreds of guests, dozens of servers, a chef or two and usually overdressed managers are scrambling about with focus and purpose gleaming from their serious faces. It’s improvisational theatre without a script or an audience and a diminishing collection of props.
At best, it takes me three round trips before I’ve got everything I want from the buffet here. Depending on how I’ve managed to amass my various dishes, either the toast and/or the eggs and/or coffee might be cold by the time I can sit down and start eating.
Sometimes I yearn for a properly made Bloody Mary with breakfast. Or, a Salty Dog. Just one.