It's 9 a.m. and time for a cool, crisp glass of Sauvignon Blanc and creamy scrambled eggs

I recently endured the unforgettable joys of recuperating from total knee replacement surgery.   During the many weeks of therapy, I had numerous opportunities to explore the essential and intriguing aspects of wine appreciation.  One morning while my wife was off to the golf course in pursuit of perfection—which that sport firmly denies—I had this pre-coffee urge to enjoy a breakfast that was quite different from my typical ritual.  I felt like having a cool glass of aromatic Sauvignon Blanc and some buttery, scrambled eggs. 

To be sure, getting a buzz on was not the plan.  Neither was it a vino version of the “Hair of the dog.”  And for those who don’t know what that is, “Hair of the dog” is a homeopathic remedy that “cures like with like.”  That is, if you have a nasty hangover from last night’s overindulgence, then the way to fight those demons is with a few more ounces of the juice that created them.  No, my plan was neither of those, it was simply that wine and scrambled eggs just sounded kinda interesting.

(Sidebar: The etymology of the “hair" phrase is quite fascinating:  Back in the olden days, if one was bitten by a rabid dog, the recommended treatment was to place some of the hairs from the dog’s tail into the wound. I was unable to find statistics on how successful that routine was, or how many more times one was bitten trying to pull out those tail hairs.  However, that the phrase survives to this day convinces me of it verity.) 

  

Back to my research.  Quite clearly, the early morning hours offer the bonus of being alone, unhurried, undistracted and undeterred by anyone or anything. I poured some Sauvignon Blanc into an appropriate stemware glass, and its citric, pungent aroma leaped from the glass. With bread in the toaster, I cracked two Grade AA Browns into a small, buttered frying pan.  On medium high, swirling quickly with a small wooden spoon until soft and creamy, I pulled the scramble off the burner and plated it alongside the toast.   I sat at the kitchen table eager to experience my hedonistic breakfast. 

Without a doubt, white wine and scrambled eggs at 9 am is a significant departure (and step up) from my usual morning ritual.  The latter is a “fuel stop” routine geared to getting the mind and body cranked up with a strong, mug full of fully leaded coffee and a large bowl of oatmeal spiked with bananas and raisins.  White wine and scrambled eggs, however, is something quite different; it is not designed to launch me into the day’s activities. As an old style dining experience, it is more of a palliative—especially for the spirit—and a rather civilized way to start the day.

Because of my ongoing food and wine perspective, I paid close attention to the creamy eggs and their interaction with the wine; definitely more than I would for the interaction of coffee with oatmeal.  The whole effect was most enjoyable and felt quite luxurious.  Not wanting to abruptly conclude the experience, I poured myself a couple more ounces and sat down in my easy chair and began browsing my morning newspaper.

After twenty or so minutes of combing through the various articles and trying to get current with the world’s events, I noticed that irrespective of the topic, the details did not engage me, and my attention began to wander. Moreover, I also noticed that my reading lamp was intrusively brighter than usual, so I turned it off and tossed the newspaper onto the nearby coffee table.  

With those irritants disposed of, and a few finishing sips of the wine, I decided to savor the morning’s experiment a bit, so I tilted my easy chair back into a more restful position and slowly closed my eyes.  Not for long mind you, just a few minutes . . . .