I love Sunday brunch. It's easily one of my favorite meals of the week and time for me to make a pot of freshly ground and brewed coffee, sip on a glass of OJ, and stir up something. It always makes the house smell fantastic. This week was blueberry pancakes from Cooking Light, which I topped with bananas, fresh blueberries, and real maple syrup. No reduced-calorie pancake syrup for me. Blech.
I remember waking up to the smell of pancakes, bacon, and coffee when I was growing up. Occasionally, but not often, my parents would start a big breakfast around 9 a.m. I figure this was a sneaky way to get my sister and I out of bed, as we both knew that if we didn't get up right away, it would be gone before we could even have a bite. My dad's stomach is a bottomless pit, and he could probably put away a 3/4 a batch of pancakes and multiple strips of bacon.
Maybe the occasion was too rare in our household, because now that I've moved out, I've made it a big production of breakfast, which is to be eaten only while watching the King Thompson/Coldwell Banker Sunday Home Show. Don't ask me why, but real estate infomercials are a perfect accompaniment. Plus, when else can you play, "guess the price of that house?" or openly make fun of people's tacky decorating tastes?