Jenny studied in London during her junior year of college.
Much to my middle school delight, Mom and Dad and I went to visit her. It was pretty much the coolest thing that had ever happened to me, that LEAVING THE COUNTRY thing. Galena Middle School did not boast many international travelers. I daresay it still does not.
Anyway, one of my little sister privileges was to spend the night with Jenny and her flatmates at their flat. (It's not an apartment! It's a flat! England is SO cool. -- I thought.)
Now, being a college student saving her pennies (and pence) for important things like Doc Martens and pints at the pub, breakfast at Jenny's flat was, shall we say, minimal. Tea and toast. Toast and tea. That's what we had.
Granted, I didn't want to give up the cool factor of staying overnight in a flat, but the spoiled 12 year old me might have teleported herself back to the cool hotel where she was otherwise staying for the cozy and posh breakfast they were serving. But, not an option, so tea and toast it was.
At some point, Jenny brought out this Nutella stuff. You put it on your toast, she said. YOU'LL LIKE IT, she said, with what I remember imperfectly to be growing impatience because suddenly, breakfast at the hotel didn't sound all that bad to her, either. A full English breakfast, mind you, is awesome.
OK. Give me some Nutella.
And then, the rest was history. We ate our Nutella toast in a haze of choco-nutty happiness and our concerns about breakfast were a thing of the past.
* * *
I didn't want Jack to wait as long as I did to discover the magic of Nutella. I mean, why wait?
So, the other evening, he and I decadently had Nutella toast for dinner. (My ears are closed to any judgment. I just don't hear it.)
I hadn't had it in a long time. Damn, it's good.
Oh, and Jack agreed.
So, you know. That's a win.
Hope your day involves a nice cuppa.