Breakfast, breakfast. The energy of breakfast has a nostalgia to it that is lacking in it’s other counterparts, lunch and dinner. Lunch and dinner are interchangeable; breakfast stands as a beacon or a pillar of the morning. Nothing shakes the foundation of breakfast. Be it cereal: Cheerios, Boo-Berry, Cream of Wheat; be in an acai smoothie with artisan grapes; be it Denny’s Moons Over My Hammy; each choice elicits a feeling in the heart, a coming home, that is not shared across the day’s other meals. When I lived in Seoul, I especially missed American breakfast: 2 eggs over easy, with a thick and grainy toast with butter, and bacon. It’s not that I could not find that breakfast to eat; it’s that it was a 30-minute trek from door to door and included a subway ride to Gangnam to get to the place, not to mention the $20 price tag for the privilege of eating an American breakfast in Korea. The other option was to go to Itaewon, which was even farther away. And I wanted breakfast at breakfast time, dammit! I didn’t want to crawl out of bed and push through the mass of people for an hour to then get my coveted breakfast. Because of all the barriers, enjoying American breakfast in Seoul was something rare. God, I missed it though. It was the only meal I was really homesick for. I could get pizza, even really good carrot cake, but since breakfast to Koreans was the same as their other meals, breakfast was an anomaly.