Wednesday, September 17th, 2025 Breakfast will be the Bronson Scramblette, a little souvenir from the Beachwood Café in LA. Just me in the kitchen, whisking eggs with a splash of milk, blistering cherry tomatoes until they almost burst, and folding in basil and mozzarella until the whole pan feels like sunshine. By evening, the kitchen will shift from soft herbs and eggs to sizzling steak. I’ll freeze the meat just long enough to slice it thin, sear it in a cast iron, and melt provolone right into the pile before tucking it into toasted rolls. A Philly cheesesteak may not be glamorous, but it’s honest, comforting, and just messy enough to feel like city life on a plate. Somewhere between the two, I’ll steal the last of the confetti sugar cookie sandwiches, sprinkles pressed into the frosting like a reminder that joy belongs in the small things. And it makes me wonder… maybe what we’re really craving isn’t just eggs or steak or cookies, but the way food tells us where we’ve been and where we’re going. Breakfast from LA, dinner from Philly, dessert from childhood — one day’s menu, a whole map of memory. What’s on your menu? Gracefully yours, 🫶🏻 Jeanie Jo plantoeat mealandgrace dinnerinspo whatsonthemenu brunchideas homecooking foodgram foodblogger