4/14/07 - Breakfast

Downtown Soquel has some choice restaurants and eateries. One of my favorites is the Sunrise Cafe, a not-so-greasy spoon run by hot waitresses and a few cooks in the back turning out a line of diner food that pleases everyone...

...especially a hung over Luke and Audrey (and me, behind the camera). The night before Auds drank most of my Jameson, Luke finished all the vodka we had left, and I showed up late (missing a game of Monopoly and smashing the empties on the driveway), but still caught the height of the tippled proceedings.

Patiently awaiting our table.

The patience paid off with a Potato Mess: house potatoes, eggs, bacon, cheddar cheese, mushrooms, topped with sour cream and tomaotes; with a side of buiscuits.

If Safeway made branded underwear, Luke would probably have a drawer full of them. Our waitress (the 2nd hotest one in my book), gave us a Safeway pen to sign the check. Luke was ecstatic, as if she'd given us a Mont Blanc. He felt like he was under the watchful eyes of the waitresses, so Auds swiped it for him. What a nice girl.

4/4/07 - Breakfast

We stayed at Patty's brother Jackie's place in Santa Monica and in the morning he served us some scrumptious torta that his girlfriend's Uruguayan dad made the day before. It was a bit like a quiche; this wasn't amateur, and was clearly prepared by an experienced cook.

Jackie and his GF's hospitality were much appreciated.

4/1/07 - Breakfast

On my way down to Ojai I stopped at the perennial favorite, IHOP, the International House of Pancakes

Back in high school I had a fun summer job: I used to take portraits of cheerleaders at cheerleading camps for Coronet Photography. About twice a month I drove to Santa Barbara or LA for the camps. I had to get up early for these trips and I'd always stop at the IHOP just outside of Pismo for breakfast.

As the fog cleared this familiar blue sign was a shining billboard of nostalgia, instantly reminding me of past glories. Ridiculously bad for you, the greasy food at IHOP never fails to satisfy. The magic was still there.

Evidence for a future coronary: buiscuits and gravy, sausage and hash browns. You can't beat this, son!

3/30/07 - Breakfast

I didn't catch his name but this wee garden gnome emerged from the bushes outside our door, and was kind enough to offer me some of his "dried plums". Another word for them: prunes. Little dude looks like he's done pretty well for himself on his plum tree; he's like 300 years old, been regular for 200.

I may consider going on the prune regimen.

3/29/07 - Breakfast

I got up and wasn't very hungry. I found Luke in the kitchen, eating his Life with soy milk.

I declare Luke winner of the March Moustache competition by dint of rocking the 'stache in extroardinary circumstances. Ask him for all the salacious details.

House guest Juan Carlos-Sanchez, awake and hopping about in his cage, approves of Luke's shenanigans.

3/26/07 - Breakfast

More gruel: apples & cinnamon mixed with maple nut oatmeal.

Free Katie!

3/24/07 - Breakfast

Slept in and awoke with a headache; ate a banana while reading the L'Uomo Vogue Fashion Guide. Dig the grey cardigan with the blue tie.

L'Uomo Vogue dice:

"Preppy come la gioventú wasp americana , bella, colta e spensierata. Che Ali MacGraw nel film "Love Story" accusa di superficialitá. Il look? Garbati cardigan e golf tradizionali."

3/24/07 - Breakfast

Irish oatmeal: instant oatmeal, boiling water, two shots of Bailey's. Warms you all over.

3/23/07 - Breakfast

I appreciate a banana most when the fruit is firm and the peel still slightly green. When they begin to go black, I feel a little unsure about peeling them, afraid to find the dreaded sugar spots. At this point the mealy texture inspires a gagging sensation, and I won't even consider them when the fruit goes brown, bruised and limp, as if the banana is eagerly digesting itself for easier consumption.

Hot tip: best to use these flacid, aged bananas for banana bread.

03/18/07 - Breakfast

Breakfast is a pretty rare occurrence for me around here. The weirdness of this is equivalent to the rarity of breakfast. My parents came up to SF for my sister to give my dad a haircut. They originally wanted to get brunch, but I didn't feel like that. So they decided to get breakfast. Ok cool, I'll be there. Where are we going? Crepevine. Crepevine? WTF. Why am I driving a half an hour when I can go to the crepevine five minutes from my house? I relented and went. Their french toast is good. Their house potatoes are still kind of suspect. I don't know if they're too heavy or what.

When I took my camera out to take this picture, my mom asked what I was doing and I embarassingly explained it to her. She was surprsingly excited, and wanted me to take a picture of the potatoes because I was eating those as well. I didn't take the picture. Sorry mom.

After breakfast we drove up to Sausolito. That was fun.