Breakfast for Dinner, Take Two.

My husband and I fell in love in Paris. Not because of the Eiffel Tower or the romantic little cobbled streets - but because of the food. But even more specifically, it was because I could finally cook for him. I finally had the space and the tools to prepare a decent meal. You see, my husband's apartment kitchen in the Upper West Side consisted of one skillet from the mid-eighties, spices that were so old, they were the color of hay (I kid you not.) and maybe a rusty spatula. Why didn't he just come to my kitchen, you ask? Because he was too snobby to come to Brooklyn. Sigh...

In Paris, we stayed in a beautiful little studio apartment and I would make breakfast every morning with all the delicious treats we'd acquired the day before. One of his absolute favorite breakfasts was French Toast topped with sauteed pears and strawberries. He had no idea that our relationship could bring a new culinary treat everyday, and was so excited by this particular breakfast that he took a picture and framed the camera so that my face was in the background, hovering over a giant plate of French Toast in the foreground. I just might have to post that picture.

Anyway, biting into dinner tonight took me back almost six years ago and made me realize how lucky I am to be just as madly in love with him now as I was back then.