The best breakfasts happen in the afternoon. It means that you’ve slowly rolled out of bed, maybe getting up to get the newspaper and then getting back underneath the covers to read it. It means that you’ve allowed the hunger in your belly to slowly cultivate itself into a growling craving demanding attention. Somewhere between reading the Metro section in the Oregonian and starting the crossword puzzle, you realize that you need to venture out from the warmth of your bed to seek out the endless delicious combinations of eggs and bready buttery sides in the city, and baptize them in coffee. You need this to live.

The possibilities are limitless. Should you try a new place, like that new café that’s been getting rave reviews in the Willamette Week, or just stick with a tried and true favorite, knowing that you want to relive the experience of say, the scone you had at the Cup and Saucer a month ago? You argue with yourself- if you never try anything new, than you might never have discovered the Big Egg Portlander egg sandwich with it’s thick strips of bacon flavored with mustard and chives and oozing with yolky goodness. But then again, if you are really just craving that perfect croissant at Petite Provence, then nothing else may fill that hole in your heart today.

So you trudge onward, getting dressed and facing the outside world. It’s cold and raining outside, but you know that it will be worth it in the end. When you get there, you see the line of people outside and sigh. But you join the masses under the awning, huddling together to avoid the drizzle. Luckily, there is the consolation of fresh brewed coffee outside. You pour yourself a cup and warm your cold hands around the mug. You wait contentedly watching the steam swirl upwards from your coffee and fantasize about the selections on the menu.

When the hostess finally calls your name to be seated, you’ve already scanned all the selections of food being eaten by patrons sitting by the window and narrowed down your selection. But as the hostess leads you to your table, you walk past other dishes that you hadn’t seen while you were waiting outside, and suddenly you feel confused and overwhelmed by what you should order.

Luckily, the friends who are with you are sympathetic to your plight and agree to share several of the dishes with you. You sigh happily in your seat and think about how excited you are right now, drinking coffee with friends, waiting for many different plates of breakfast to be brought to you.

And then she comes like an angel arising from the steam of the kitchen. On her hands are floating several trays of food that inch nearer and nearer to your table. You hope that she will stop in front of your booth, and she does.

The first bites are always the best. Perfectly cooked eggs mixed with melted cream cheese with smoked salmon. Buttery, syrupy pancakes with little packets of blueberries that burst inside your mouth.

You lean back in your seat, feeling warm and full, and watch the rain drizzle down the windows. It’s been a good day so far and you’ve only just had breakfast.