Consecrated, shy Saturday rays.

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There’s just something about stuff on toast. Sometimes, it’s not just about the smushing together of peanut butter and jam. Oftentimes, a more savoury and nourishing hat rattles the old engines and breathes life into mornings. So easy you feel guilty. But guilty at pleasure’s stake.

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roasted grapes with ricotta on grilled sourdough

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baked eggs in baked beans

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A fork affair. Moist avocado ‘crumbs’ and the warm tang of fresh, halfway-there compote.

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smashed avocado and raspberry compote on dark rye

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chia infused banana bread

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I’m excited.

For what?

For the possibilities this world holds when it come to breakfast. The sacred routine of waking up, pondering a little, hovering a little, before either following a set recipe, or perhaps just mixing unexpected ingredients together, just for the sake of amateur experimentation, laden with a golden hope.

Ready to learn.

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