Breakfast in America

I used to want to open a diner in China. Way back when. When getting scrambled eggs and bacon and toast in Beijing was practically unheard of. An old-school American diner. Formica. Vinyl. Menus in plastic sleeves. That kind of place. And I was going to name it “Breakfast in America.” Or “The Long Way Home.” Because I also really enjoyed Supertramp. Naturally.

The diner never materialized. Obviously. But I stand by my belief that it really was a great idea. I could have cleaned up in early aughts/pre-Olympics Beijing or Shanghai. Or a second- or third-tier city— Kunming or Chengdu could even have played host to my imagined slice of home. Sigh. Missed opportunity. Sigh.

I love breakfast in America. And this was my last one, last week. Scrambled eggs topped with a slice of melted American cheese (I will fight anyone who says that combo is not delicious), hashbrowns (crispy), bacon, buttered whole-wheat toast, and bitter, strong, unlimited coffee.