One of the wonderful benefits of writing about what you like to eat and putting it on-line is that everyone you know wants to tell you about great places that they've been. Unfortunately this is also one of the worst side-effects. (We take the good with the bad).
As is tradition with my childhood friends (a clan of middle-class Jews from West Rogers Park), I was having a drink and throwing darts at the Mark II Lounge ("The Deuce") on Christmas Eve. I was involved in a conversation with the lovely girlfriend of a friend, when the unfortunate side-effect kicked in. She wanted to tell me all about "a great, new breakfast place" that they just found. This breakfast place, which shall remain nameless, is neither great nor new. Furthermore, I wholeheartedly agree with
Mike G about eating out for breakfast. I have no interest in standing in line on a peaceful weekend morning for mediocre food. Ms. EC and I rarely, if ever, eat out for breakfast.
Sensing my discomfort in this conversation, Ms. EC stepped in to save the day. "We really never go out for breakfast. Michael likes to eat at home, and he eats stuff that most places don't serve," she said. "Like what?", we were asked. So, I described my breakfast from that particular morning:
2 slices of Polish rye, toasted
Thick slabs of hard farmer cheese (Dutch or Belgian, I forget)
1 smoked chub
3 or 4 sardines in olive oil
Sliced onion
Sliced tomato
Kosher salt and cracked pepper
From this, I make two open-faced sandwiches (one chub, one sardine). This, in my humble opinion, is the greatest breakfast in the world. During the Sunday mornings of my youth, my father would add to this a bowl of farmer's chop suey (veggies mixed in sour cream and cottage cheese), and replace the sliced onion with his "onions in oil" (a Tupperware container of chopped onions that have been sitting in vegetable oil since the previous Sunday, pungent and delicious).
Smoked fish, white cheese, fresh vegetables, and good bread are how I learned to eat breakfast from my Polish-immigrant father and grandfather. Eggs, pancakes, or anything sweet really turns me the other way. On the weekends, I'm usually having whitefish, chubs, trout, or sardines. Sometimes lox, if I'm entertaining others. If I've got a lot of money in my pocket, I'll pick up a piece of sable.
After my description at the bar I was met with the exclamation: "You eat WHAT for breakfast?" And my morning dining habits became the topic of conversation around the bar. Most people added laughter, some disgust. No one (minus the Ms) said "That sounds good!"
I didn't jump to defend my tastes. I never see any reason to, beyond throwing out the obligatory, "don't knock it 'til ya tried it," and most of them aren't willing to try it.
So, this raised the question in my mind. Why do Americans find this idea so distasteful? Is my sandwich so far removed from lox & cream cheese on a bagel? Do I only enjoy this meal because it was passed on to me in my youth and is the opposite true for others? Is taste tied so closely to tradition?
Best,
EC