Flavor, texture, breakfast

I read this article online from a man that had lost his sense of smell in an accident and explaining how it's changed parts of his life that we normally would not discuss in polite company. The article itself was interesting enough, but it's the comments I care about right now. Someone asked him various questions about food, and he remarked that without his sense of smell, food had lost its nuance. He finds colors and textures more interesting now. I had enjoyed textures in my food before, crunchy taco shells, soft pudding, crisp lettuce, etc. but they were not the primary reason for me eating something.

I'm at breakfast this morning with my lovely girlfriend at one of my favorite diners and she asked how my food was. I say everything's wonderful. Then I noticed that while the hash browns are indeed great, it's really the texture I'm referring to. They have almost no flavor, but I don't care. They are crispy on the outside - audibly crunchy, no less - and soft (in a good way) in the inside. It's not something I've ever articulated or thought about until after reading his comments. But there I was, enjoying flavorless texture.

As I'm telling her my thoughts, she hears the passion in my voice. She says I'm excited about hash browns, and I murmur I like food. She laughed and said I should write about it. So here I am.

The whole breakfast was wonderful. They do a variation on eggs Benedict with a biscuit and sausage patty instead of the traditional English muffin and ham. The biscuit is fluffy, though structurally unsound. I found myself needing to use a spoon to eat my meal after the gravy soaked in. The sausage patty was particularly spicy this morning, which may be due to my cereal Renaissance at home. Seriously, I haven't eaten this much cereal since I was ten (Tiger Flakes, yo). The hollandaise and poached eggs were marvelous, if not terribly unique.

The other gem on my plate was the jalapeño bacon. I've bought a few different brands of jalapeño bacon over the years, but they are often not spicy in the least. Also, I've yet to master getting bacon crispy when I cook it. It's always good, but a little disappointing to pick up. Anyway, this bacon is spicy, meaty, and crisp. As we're talking, we both fall silent each time one of use takes a bite. I even reflexively close my eyes and my head drops a little. She's similarly enjoying her own strips of paradise.

My food starts to grow cold and I hurry to eat it before it turns inedible. The biscuit is losing all identity, the previously runny yolk is congealing, the hollandaise loses its zest, the hash browns cold and limp. But the jalapeño bacon, oh that glorious jalapeño bacon remained delicious even in that final bite.