An Italian breakfast is sweet. Period. I grew up with salty breakfasts. Period. For that I had a huge problem in coming to terms with my first meal of the day when I moved here. It took me years to appreciate the switching from salty to sweet. And it took me a very long time to say that I am looking forward to breakfast as soon as I open my eyes.
A typical Italian would have a cornetto and a cup of cappuccino standing up in a bar, finished in 5 minutes tops. I, instead, would pick out the cornetto as the last among the morning pastries and I am ashamed to admit that I don't drink cappuccino because I don't like milk. I would have a glass of spemuta d'arancia (freshly-squeezed orange juice) if it's in season, a cup of espresso and a bomba, which is a pastry that's considered a bomb being its literal English translation because aside from being fried, it is filled up with crema pasticcera (pastry cream) and covered with sugar. My doctor was not impressed with my frequent "lovely breakfasts" and immediately put a halt to my morning happiness. Sigh.
Some weekend mornings, my husband goes out to the closest bar and buys a tray of morning pastries for the whole family. Our morning spread would look something like this minus the flowers and much, much more mess. Those are the times when I completely embrace the beauty of my Italian breakfasts with my kids and husband. I think it's the company and the mess that matters the most when enjoying food.
My kids are still too little to pamper me with a beautiful breakfast on Mother's Day but I appreciate the little projects and wildflowers (that includes butterflies, ladybugs, insects & grass!) that they are in the habit of picking and giving to me while playing outside. It's nice to be appreciated in their own simple ways. That's one of the reasons why I look forward to spring. Wild flowers picked by little hands make any day special.
To all the wonderful Moms out there, Happy Mother's Day!