Having begun the first few years of marital bliss in Hubby’s homeland, Israel, we decided to take some time to see if the world was calling us in other directions. Hubby and I began with a few months in the USA. With friends in Nashville, Tennessee, we thought this could be a great place to start. An entirely new culture, continent and way of life for us both.

Nashville presented an innovative stand on food. Add one of two of the following ingredients for ensured edibility: cheese or bacon. The smothering of butter was a given.

I think of the staple ingredients of culinary competitors. Italy’s garlic and olive oil, 0r Japan’s soy sauce and ginger. America blew me away with this simple concoction, albeit limiting one. This wasn’t pure science, or a hidden secret kept only for the city’s top connoisseurs. No, this culinary magic made perfect sense. Although I am not a devourer of bacon, the smothering of creamy, cheesy velvet in a compromising position with salty, smokey, crispy pig fat, seems like a pure winner. This culinary magic was churned out in most food capacities, from chicken sarnies, turkey baps, potato skins, grits, burgers, hotdogs, empanadas, and the list went on.

Breakfast was my favourite meal of the day in the Bible Belt. The union of salty and sweet. This post is in memory of one of the most self-indulgent breakfasts I have had the pleasure to devour.

It was a Sunday morning that followed a night of beer, whiskey shots, line-dancing and leg injuries (induced by rides on a plastic spinning bull). International House of Pancakes seemed our only option for surviving the morning hangover. Honestly. Blueberry pancakes for me, chocolate chip pancakes for Hubby. Spinach and mushroom omelete and potato hash on the side. Delicious.