There is a tradition in my house. Each Sunday morning I get up and make breakfast for my family. Aside from vacations the weekends are the only time I'm home for breakfast. I don't make extravagant foods. For the most part my breakfast is the good farm type cooking you'd expect from a Rockwell scene; pancakes, waffles, french toast, Biscuits and gravy, sausage patties, bacon and eggs. Nothing out of the normal.
Today I made Biscuits and sausage gravy. Everything came together just perfectly. The biscuits were golden and flaky without being overly dry. The sausage patties had a thin savory crust, the eggs were light and fluffy and the gravy....the gravy was smooth and thick, light tan in color and perfectly seasoned.
I looked at the meal I had prepared for my wife and children in it's respective cooking dishes and knew that they deserved better. I retrieved from the cupboard bowls and serving trays, I plated the meal as if we were in a restaurant. The surplus was laid out on trays in a near decorative fashion. Breakfast was served to smiles and glowing remarks as to the taste and presentation.
Sated and happy my family went their way and I began cleaning up. As I washed each dish I marveled at my folly. What could have taken one plate was on three. My beloved cast iron skillet would have presented the gravy better than the bowl. I was now spending time and resources cleaning things that my family probably hadn't even noticed.
While I don't condone drinking the milk over the sink (unless I'm the only one drinking the milk). I also think that living simply but tastefully will teach my family much more than a perfectly plated meal.
I think breakfast would have been far more fun had my family and I broken biscuits (perfectly made biscuits) and dipped them in gravy still in the pan it was cooked in while we enjoyed our Sunday morning.