Fried Potatoes with Rosemary & Sourdough Toast


This morning over a tin plate of eggs, fried potatoes with rosemary, and sourdough toast I asked Tucker what I should blog about. If you haven't noticed I've been trying to show up here more often than not. 

Tucker jokingly said I should blog about breakfast. In true Chelsea fashion I thought that was a brilliant idea. 

I love breakfast. We love breakfast. To say it is our favorite meal wouldn't really do it justice -- it's basically the only meal we understand. 

In 2013 when Tucker started working his first post college job, we decided that Breakfast would be our time together. Every morning around 6AM we would get out of bed, saunter into our cold living room at 1017 Court Street and start cracking eggs. We'd fry potatoes, we'd pick the last dying sprigs of our rosemary plant and throw them in, and we'd spend half an hour cooking and half an hour eating usually. Even then Tucker did most of the cooking, while I tried to wake up. I've never been good at waking up. 

2014 was a year that brought a lot of change into our lives. It was probably life just preparing us for what was about to happen when we'd move to Texas. But nearly every Saturday we'd stop by this bakery to get brioche and chocolate pecan coffee before driving up to the Blue Ridge Parkway which was about a twenty five minute drive away. Those breakfasts were the best. I'm getting teary eyed just writing about them. The last time we drove to the parkway before the move I was devastated, peppered turkey & gouda brioche in hand. 

When we moved to Austin in January of this year we lived with some dear friends for a few weeks. While we were staying there we developed an affinity for sourdough toast. Our friends mom was in town, and every morning she would make sourdough toast & drink her Starbucks tea. The sourdough toast rubbed off on us. 

This morning over breakfast we both felt a weird sense of nostalgia. We realized our fried potatoes reminded us of our Virginia home, the first place we ever made a home together, and our sourdough reminded us of earlier this year when we had nothing in Austin figured out. 

Breakfast is special, not because it's the most important meal of the day but because it's the one we've got especially figured out. 

What's your favorite meal? What meals make you feel nostalgic?