Driving: Nampa, Idaho to Bend, Oregon
Food Revolution Challenge:
Discover that not everything in that hotel breakfast bar is what it appears. Namely, the eggs.
After driving all over town yesterday for dinner, I admit we're grateful the hotel has a breakfast bar. We've perfected the art of getting breakfast, and the offerings at Holiday Inn Express aren't bad. Jake, to my shock, bypasses the cinnamon rolls. In years past he has always grabbed one for the road, but today he grabs a banana.
Banana?!?! Instead of a cinnamon roll? My mouth drops open in shock.
"Mom, they are probably full of junk anyway. I don't need one. Bananas are better."
Have aliens kidnapped my child and left a more food conscious person in his wake? A banana instead of a cinnamon roll? I resist the urge to feel his forehead. He's looking a little pale, though. Might need to check that later when he's not looking.
I mumble something about teenagers being weird while I scoop some squiggly, yellow scrambled eggs onto my plate beside my toast. I normally don't eat eggs at home, but when on vacation I like to have some protein for breakfast to keep me full longer and tide me over in case we have a late lunch.
Back at the table, I take a bite of eggs and begin to chew, but...something is off. Wait a second, these are not eggs. What are they? Pseudo eggs? Is there such a thing? They don't even feel like eggs in my mouth. They're dry, and crumbly, and oh my LORD get these POSERS that call themselves EGGS away from me.
I spit them out in horror as Jake and Hubs giggle.
"Didn't you KNOW?" Jake chews his toast. "Man, Mom, I thought you knew those weren't eggs. They look gross."
Okay, maybe I sort of did know but I just didn't want to admit it. In almost every hotel we had stayed at, there was some kind of "egg" dish. There were "omelets", which were obviously processed and re-heated eggs, hard boiled eggs that were obviously not boiled and peeled by the hotel, and then these faux scrambled eggs that had a weird dry texture. How hard is it to crack some eggs and cook them? I learned how to make scrambled eggs when I was just a little kid. In fact, they were my signature dish as a child, always full of bits of chives, bacon or ham, and loads of cheese. My parents used to beg me to make them for them.
This girl KNOWS her eggs, people.
Does any hotel actually serve real eggs? I can't tell you. In all our travels I used to think that all the eggs I ate were real, but now that I'm actually paying attention, I'm not sure. Probably not. The only hotel that I can think of where they served actual real eggs was the Sheraton in Tucson, Arizona. Now THAT was a good breakfast. (note: with a recent $4 million renovation, this hotel is fantastic and inexpensive for this time of year. I highly recommend you book it. We had fantastic service and would stay there again any time we're in Tucson)
I eat the toast instead and those "eggs" are left behind. Readers should know that I'm not, by any means, a picky eater. For me to leave those "eggs" behind says a LOT. I eat almost anything, except fruitcake. And Nanaimo bars. Or tofu.
(looking for a great breakfast place? Zagat.com was featured in USA Today in an article showcasing their top 25 places to eat breakfast. There's even a map! )
We leave for Bend and drive drive drive, listening to music, reading, counting pronghorn antelope (whole HERDS of them!) until finally, when we arrive and stop at a Starbucks for a much needed coffee. (Way to keep me happy on vacation; ply me with lots of coffee)
Right there in the parking lot I break out the peanut butter, yogurt, wheat bread, fruit, and whip up sandwiches in the car. I love how the peanut butter jar fits right into the cup holder. The only issue I'm having is plastic knives-I keep losing the suckers! As I take a scoop of peanut butter, the knife breaks in half and pieces fly around the car. Jake dives in the back seat.
"Incoming! Peanut butter bombs!" he squeals. Teenagers. There's no more knives (mental note: grab more from the breakfast bar tomorrow) so I settle for the handle of a spoon. Hey, it works! I'm resourceful! I'm Mom! I'm doing the Food Revolution and hear me ROAR!
I turn and there is a guy in the car next to us, watching us with amusement. He has the "I'm not totally sure if they are crazy but what the hell are they doing?" look to him, so I grin back sweetly.
Right, grin at the American who probably thinks I've added something special to that Starbucks coffee. What have I got to lose now?
None of us care anymore if people think we're nuts, because nothing can be more embarrassing than when we asked for restaurant advice from a random Walmart customer the day before. NOTHING. Well. Besides the time I accidentally flashed my butt to all of Mainstreet USA in Disneyland.
Bend, my friends, is a gorgeous town with tons to do but for us, it's the draw of the zero tax, outlet mall, and cheap prices that entices us to spend a good deal of our time doing one activity while we're here...
SHOPPING. And there is no flashing involved, I promise.
Tomorrow: Our food is held hostage! What are we going to do?!