“I’ve never been any good at cooking,” Vanessa mentioned sheepishly as we sat down at the dinner table.

“It’s really about the passion behind the food you choose to prepare. It’s okay for it not to be visually appealing as an end result. What you want are the flavors, that’s going to be your winner,” I told my cousin, grabbing a roll from the basket on the table.

“You’re so good at it. Do you have a favorite meal that you like to make? Or eat, for that matter?”

I poked my fork around my plate, spearing a cubed squash as I pondered her question. There were so many foods that I loved to eat. I always viewed food as a wonderful means of getting to know someone. Different cultures used different spices and herbs, different cooking methods, different ingredients. Family always played a big part as those recipes had been passed down through generations; learned techniques that created magic on a plate. A well crafted dish could transport you through time and space and create lasting memories.

“Well,” I started a little bashfully, “I’ve actually always been a sucker for breakfast. The best way to start the day is by setting your brain to work right away. You’re not only making food to create energy for yourself, but by carefully selecting all of your ingredients and deciding how to bring them together, it works your thinking side as well.”

“I never thought of it that way, but like I said, I’m not much of a cook. I usually just grab a quick poptart or some fruit before heading out the door,” Vanessa said as she bit into her asparagus.

My heart and stomach simultaneously lurched as she said ‘poptart’. “Oh Ness, no. A poptart? You are doing such a disservice to your body! With all of the amazing options you could have in place of that fake pastry! I mean, I understand if you're short on time but please, you have to avoid that not-even-good-enough-to-be-a-last-resort food!”

I put my fork down and briefly removed my glasses to rub at the bridge of my nose. “Let me paint a picture for you of my absolute favorite dish; a Lox Benedict.

“Nothing has captured breakfast perfection quite like this delicate, yet filling, masterpiece. It starts with one of the most versatile ingredients, the humble egg. But you have to treat it with respect, it doesn’t get tossed in a pan and fried or smashed up into a scramble; you have to remove the egg from its shell and place it gently into a lightly boiling pot of water. This cooks the egg at a slower pace to give it that soft, plump texture. A beautiful, white cloud with a golden nugget inside is what will come out of that water.”

“I do enjoy eggs,” Vanessa mused and leaned in intently as she grabbed a roll and nibbled on it idly.

“The benedict’s base, its entire structure, is the warm, soft, slightly toasted English muffin. Nothing is better at soaking up egg yolk than that porous, round piece of heavenly bread. But it can’t do all of the work on its own. I like to layer some unsalted butter on top that will melt and absorb just so. Unsalted is key because the dish will already have salt.”

“What about using a bagel?” my cousin inquired, taking a nonchalant sip of her wine as she said this.

“Bagel? No, Ness, please, hear me out on the whole thing before you go looking for substitutes.”

“Sorry, continue,” she chuckled as she set down the glass and picked her fork back up.

“Now, a classic benedict would generally have Canadian bacon, but this benedict is different in the best ways. I use lox.” Taking a moment to let my mouth water and mind picture its flakes and decadent texture, I continued, “Lox is the most scrumptious preparation of salmon I could ask for. This is where that salt component comes in that I was talking about. It’s a fileted piece of salmon that has been brined. So naturally, it’s flaky, it’s soft, it’s buttery, and oh, so smooth!” My voice hiked up in excitement. Vanessa laughed at my enthusiasm as she offhandedly rolled her eyes.

“So, you’ve now got a warm buttered English muffin topped with the most amazing salmon, with eggs that are like little fluffy pillows placed gingerly on top, so as not to break them. You might be asking yourself, what’s missing to bring this whole thing together?”

“Yes, I did find that question popping into my head,” Vanessa sarcastically replied, though her fascination with the dish was evident as she had ceased eating the food in front of her.

“The pièce de résistance, as it were, is the almighty hollandaise sauce!”

“What is that, Dutch?”

“French, actually. It’s made from egg yolks, butter; yes more butter, lemon juice, and a dash of cayenne pepper if you like a little kick. These simple ingredients combined make for the warmest, creamiest, most mouth-watering sauce poured all over the dish. It pulls the whole piece together because it encases every component. The entire meal is the best combination of flavors, textures, and scents, creating complete satisfaction.”

“Well damn, why didn’t we have that for dinner then?” Ness exclaimed, plopping her hands down on the table.

As I speared another piece of squash from my plate, I couldn’t help but look at it disappointedly. Shaking my head in resignation at the dinner before me I added, “Tomorrow morning, we shall feast.”