i’m not much of a breakfast eater. as a matter of fact, i don’t really eat breakfast at all. i know, i know. it’s the most important meal of the day, blah, blah, blah. i don’t know how some people do it. eat breakfast, i mean.
so if i start raving about bruschettas with avocado pesto, tomatoes, feta cheese and poached eggs on top and actually get excited for it, then it must be a reaaally good breakfast meal.
it is. you just gotta take my word for it.
you only get it at melissa cakes cafe bar, as far as i know. well, you can make one from scratch if you’re determined enough. i reckon it’s pretty easy as long as you have the recipe (still looking for it) although the poached eggs might be a challenge to make. (i tried. and failed miserably.)
but, yeah, that’s my go-to meal for breakfast when jeff and i find ourselves at melissa’s (so much so that i had to take a photo of it just in case i feel like blogging about food like i am now).
that, and a pineapple sunrise.
…while jeff usually goes for the scrambled eggs. something so simple that everyone cannot not make it. it’s very difficult to screw up and i make him scrambled eggs a lot of times but he says the one at melissa’s is better that it secretly hurts my culinary feelings. it’s okay, though, the scrambled eggs. so-s0. #bitter
they also sell cakes there too. (thus, the name?) — cakes, burgers, steaks, parmas, etc. i once tried their parma and it was great, except that it was HUGE!!! the moment they served it, my reaction ranged from shock to denial then back to shock in a matter of seconds. there was no way it was good for just one person. i asked jeff to double check and he said yes: it was good for one person. which sent me into shock yet again.
i’ve never felt more pressured to finish my food in my entire life! (okay, apart from my childhood days when my mom would insist that i eat everything she put on my plate. or else.) i swear, i was almost in tears. looking at other people on other tables scraping their plates clean while i struggled to shove down the chicken down my protesting throat. in the end, jeff must have took pity on me that he told me it was okay to not finish it.
i barely finished half.
so i told myself that the next time, i’m definitely ordering a kiddie meal. when i did several weeks ago, they asked me if i was ordering for a 7-year old or younger.
needless to say, i couldn’t possibly pass for a child.
popit. just because.