The gift of breakfast

As the saying goes, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.  I think that saying was meant for people who eat healthy things like grapefruit and scrambled eggs, not biscuits, sausage gravy and bacon.

Eating healthy is not my forte. How can you resist the sound of bacon frying and the smell of fresh biscuits? You can’t.

One of my most vivid childhood memories is waking up to my father cooking the best meal known to man: biscuits and gravy.

Nearly every Friday, I would ask if he would make breakfast in the morning. During those days, I could sleep in until 1 o’clock in the afternoon, but on the occasion that biscuits and gravy would be awaiting my arrival to the kitchen, that was something I could get up early for.

Although my dad woke up at the break of dawn every morning to work and provide for our family, he still got out of bed early enough so that I would awake to that heavenly smell of biscuits, gravy and bacon.

I remember watching him plop those huge biscuits on the pan and pulling them out of the oven, baked to golden perfection. I remember watching him furiously whisk gravy until it was as smooth and as thick as molasses.

Most importantly, I remember the mornings that I woke up early enough for him to teach me how to make biscuits and gravy just like him. I guess most daughters bond with their fathers while learning how to ride a bike or how to cast a fishing line. I bonded with my father in the kitchen, learning how to cook breakfast.

Dad, if you’re reading this, thank you for those times in the kitchen, and thank you for being the best father and teacher a girl could ask for. Those Saturday mornings may have seemed like just another day to you, but they meant more to me than you’ll ever know.

Column by Madison Wepfer, Assistant Features Editor