Ken's Blog

I just love the expression sunny side up. Nice ring to it. But I’d opted for poached. Found a small diner for brunch, eager to eat out in an establishment I thought resembled what I imagined it should look like. Open 24/7, there were small, comfortable booths to sit in, or a bar with stylish metal stools. I’d chosen the former, better placed to observe my fellow diners. I’d forgotten it was a Sunday, late morning, the place busy, mostly with families.

Did I want hash browns or grit? Or at least I thought that was what my server said. Grit, I enquired? Seemed it was corn of some sorts. That could wait. Plenty of time to try it. I’d plump for the safe option. Besides, thought hash browns were American enough for now. And I’d have the obligatory coffee. Generous mug, three refills included.

Bit of a wait for breakfast, but I didn’t mind. Outside it was damp. Inside warm. Chance to catch up on the blog. I’d met a fellow cyclist back in Anchorage who also sought out small cafes as much for the opportunity to write as to have a coffee. I’d often found myself being a bit surreptitious about this. Discreetly tucking myself away. Hunkering down as my fellow traveller had described it. Sometimes I’d simply rise early if I was staying with friends, so as not to appear unsociable.

When it arrived, the brunch idea had clearly been the sensible option. Fast for much of the morning to build sufficient appetite. Then little more needed for the remainder of the day. They probably hadn’t skimped on the cholesterol, but it certainly wasn’t greasy. Tasty I thought. Top up of coffee, then a little more tapping of the keys.