For years I didn't eat breakfast. It was a bad habit that started as a teenager with nasty allergies that often left me feeling icky in the morning. And continued into adulthood. As the decades started to add up, I increasingly need to eat something in the morning, to kick start the metabolism. The allergies are mostly a thing of the past (to some extent a result of living with year around climate control.)
Most mornings breakfast is toast at the desk in my bedroom. When I travel, I love to go out to breakfast. On the ground floor of The Hotel Chicago is a restaurant named Yolk, specializing in breakfast. Oh my, how good. I slipped in the side door from the hotel lobby, bypassing the line at the front door. I was seated at the bar overlooking the kitchen. A seat at the bar is a fun option when I am traveling alone, frequently there is no wait at the bar, and I get a nice show with my meal. I had Pot-roast Eggs Benedict. It was perfect. And the expediter knows how to wear a pair of jeans.
Would you let him handle your huevos?