Every morning, when Carlos and I sit at our little breakfast table on the terrace, something happens. As I stare at the toast in front of me ready to decide what to top it with, I can feel a glaring stare. When I look up, even after being together for 17 years at this point, he looks at me like I'm a little alien creature.
A funny foodie alien.
A sweet and savory alien.
A full-blown breakfast alien.
I smile, take a bite and make exaggerated "yum" noises as I look at him and he smiles. He smiles because he knows by now there's no way around this. He married a weird breakfast eater. I smile because my taste buds are doing a happy dance, because I just gave them exactly the right amount of weirdness they desired.Read More