Sitting in Newtown Bakery having the perfect moment:
On my plate is a flaky croissant, filled with tomatoes, eggs, purple onion, and feta. Bouncy jazz accompanies a view of the intersection: on the right, an old blue house with white shutters and a stone foundation, on the left, a sunny graveyard, green grass with grey stone.
Pulling the croissant apart, it crackles like the fires in the wood stove back home, the savory notes wafting towards me on a breath of warm air. First comes the taste the protein of the egg, then the cool juice of the tomato (which heats at a different tempo than the surrounding phyllo) and the purple onion pops up at the end, the third instrument playing in this morning symphony.
In the past I've skimmed through moments like this one...so focused on the destination that the present was never fully in focus. Well now, in this 'inbetween' moment, I am seeing it.
I can tell this is a place loved by its town, with many regulars. While I'm here, parents have brought in their children to buy bread for the week and - oh, what's that, a cinnamon roll? Well while we're here... A few older folks with more leisure time have come to read newspapers, sitting on the terrace tables outside with tea or coffee... I've heard conversations between the bakers and their friends who come in, bits and pieces of a hometown I don't truly exist in.
"How's the baby?"
"Mornin! How you doin?"
"greasy food with greasy dudes"
In addition to my breakfast, I also bought a Linzer tart and a freshly made ciabatta loaf, to carry with me back to NC.
So this is what it's like to be a morning person.
06/30/16 - Journal Entry
