I am not a morning person. If possible, I should not be spoken to, nor, in particular, asked any questions in the morning. That’s why, perhaps, I’ve never had an easy relationship with breakfast (my granola phase was an exception).
Before my starving, self-employed, full-time food blogger days, I used to drag myself to the coffee machine before even washing my face. After adding water and coffee, I would switch it on and then let the coffee drip down as I jumped under the shower. By the time the machine stopped, I was dressed and ready to go, so I would quickly pour my coffee into a thermos and rush to the office. Not a good way to start the day. Plus, add a cigarette to that coffee and it is called “Whore’s Breakfast” in Turkey (well, amongst my friends in Turkey). Not a nice name, I know.