Just about this time, my other senses kicked in, smelling coffee from down below in the kitchen. I knew it would be here soon; a steaming cup, full of aroma, bitter and rich, brought to me by my husband on these lazy weekend mornings.
I inched my way up my misshapen pillow, adding one more, then two to support my throbbing head. Sitting there, propped up and unmoving, I wondered how I got to this state from the two, no must've been three glasses of white wine I had enjoyed with friends the previous night. How could such a small amount of wine do this to me? I searched through one memory after another, to the countless days and nights in my life that I've shared drinks with friends and family for celebrations, get togethers, vacations and adventures, and to those times in my life where a glass of wine was my only company. Some of those morning after's came with the evil headache but mostly I came out unscathed. I finally snapped out of it as the coffee arrived, still unsure of how this headache came about. I was absolutely sure, that two (maybe 3-could've been 4) glasses of white wine, couldn't possibly create this monster holding me hostage.
Coffee propped in the fluff of my comforter, and Ipad ready to roam, I sat happily (as happy as I could feel) in my bed for a good hour.
Still under the constant pounding of my head, but now feeling a growing sensation of hunger. With my husband out to play on his dirt bike for the day, I contemplated my options. Get up and make some food, or...well, there was no other option as far as I was concerned. This was clearly the only choice I had unless I was to stay in the same position all day. That's never happened and I wasn't planning to start today.
I was now starving. I had just read a tweet from Ruth Reichl, the former editor of Gourmet Magazine and food writer. She was describing a beautifully written account of what I assume was breakfast. It sounded delicious and only heightened my sense of hunger. Her short quips about food and what and how she eats is lovely. Here is what she tweeted this early Saturday morning:
"Mist blowing gently away. Deep purple mountains. Robin's egg sky. Saffron risotto, sauteed, Soft fried egg. Sliced tomato. Sunshine!"
I am often inspired by food writers, and devour any book about the author and his or her experience with food. On this quiet (except for the pounding), lazy Saturday morning, Ruth Reichl's lovely description of her breakfast was the inspiration for mine.
So out of bed I climbed. Down the stairs past the forlorn look I got from the dog (I think he actually shook his head at me), and into the kitchen. This is what I had at hand:
One organic brown egg
One large, perfectly ripe, just picked Paul Robeson heirloom tomato
One Acme sourdough roll
1/2 of an avocado (I adore them. I ate the other half for lunch the day before)
Out came the frying pan, olive oil, salt and pepper and these 5 ingredients. First the tomatoes, salted and grilled golden. The egg is next, salted and peppered, nestled in with the tomatoes, cooked sunny side up (adapted for a broken yolk). Toast one half of the roll, spread with avocado and a sprinkle of salt.
In ten minutes I was back in bed, plate propped in front of me. Coffee steaming. Vivaldi playing softly. Carmelized tomato-smooth, rich, crisp, fried egg-toasted sourdough crunch, and buttery sweet avocado.
For those 15 minutes that I savored this nurturing return to normalcy, I had no recollection of a headache. As it was, I did eventually rise and shine, happy and full of good food that came from my kitchen and garden, leaving me ready to face whatever the day would bring.
Perhaps I'll switch to red wine tonight.
