Good morning, good morning! I feel like I should insert a little tune here. Mornings are really all over the place for me. Sometimes an early rise, like being at the Park Slope Food Coop for a 5am receiving shift the other day (the farmers from upstate were already there so just imagine how early they got up…) to waking up at 2pm on a Sunday afternoon, and then wondering at 7pm where the day has gone. When time permits, mornings mean breakfast. Good, slow, effort filled breakfasts. Growing up we had pancakes every Saturday morning for as long as I could remember. My brother and I would watch Saturday morning cartoons (which apparently don’t really exist anymore) and wait for our mom to prepare breakfast. Sometimes we’d help but more often not. If it was a really special day, our pancakes would be in the shape of hearts, stars or even a Mickey Mouse face.