Bread at The Mill.
Breakfast has been particularly inspiring of late. The reason? A little thing called bread. Bread. Simple, yes, but when made well it is far more than just a humble loaf. When your mind is blown by the craftsmanship of a simple slice, it encourages you to re-evaluate everything you accept in your everyday life. Why shouldn't our experiences, no matter how basic and mundane and familiar, be exceptional? From your morning coffee, to the cheese in your sandwich. Even your chosen reading material of an evening. We have become so saturated with choice that somehow we find ourselves settling with less than inspiring options with unsettling regularity.
Yet to make a decision to savour and celebrate quality, to act intentionally in this way, is to elevate your everyday happiness, to feed your soul, and to decorate your days...
That's what I adore about The Mill, one of my new favourite spots in San Francisco. The Mill celebrates bread and coffee. There is less choice on the menu, yet it is all good and wholesome. It's solid and proud. A slice or loaf, and a cup, is surely fulfilling. And experiencing this wonderment at such a basic level, with bread and milk and beans, encourages you to strive for more things good and wholesome and solid and proud in life.
It's a powerful thing.
Last Sunday I took Ben to The Mill for a breakfast date. Dark rye with cream cheese for him, country loaf with cinnamon sugar and butter for me. As well as two lattes and a takeaway dark rye loaf (to afford more affectionate morning meals into the week).
Today my morning meal was most affectionate.
♥ Dark rye toast from The Mill with sunflower seed butter and banana.
♥ Black Tea. Strong.