Dream, or real?



In my food-writerly way, I start by fantasizing about how I wish someone would spend three days folding and resting a laminated dough, rich with butter from the milk of French cows, puffing with soft flour, to make a batch of almond croissants for my breakfast (served at sunrise, in bed, of course). Then, in the spirit of honesty and journalism, I’ll need an original photo, which means I would also be getting those almond croissants into and out of the proof box and oven myself. And then? Getting back into bed to enjoy them?…well, I’m feeling foolish now.
That’s the thing about dreams. It feels pretty good to wake up, sometimes, into my real life. A life that, today, is very close to what I used to daydream. It feels ok to leave the dreaming behind and just be as fully awake as I can and appreciate what I have, right now:
Coffee and cava, little cigar-shaped omelets filled with salty cheese, baked oats with berries, tartine with cherry preserves, smoked bacon, roast potatoes and mushrooms. My husband making me an espresso, and a table full of children. That was my real breakfast, and my dream breakfast.


2 thoughts on “Dream, or real?

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