At home, I am responsible for Sunday breakfast. My husband prepares most meals through the work week, and we take a loose approach to the weekends, except for that Sunday breakfast. I alternate between omelets, and grits and eggs. That doesn’t mean that I know exactly what I’m going to cook each week, because I have to choose what to go with those. I rarely make those without adding something.

And most of the time, that something is leftovers. Things that Ambrose has cooked over the week, that are delicious to begin with, then get mixed into extra-deliciousness when I combine it with breakfast.

Recently, he cooked some chicken thighs in Italian dressing, and those thighs then got to sit in that acidic sauce for several days before I pulled one out and chopped it up, adding it to the pile of grits and over easy eggs. I have to say that was one of my best breakfasts.

And the reason it was so good was not because I’m amazing at making grits and eggs. Well, not just because of that. It’s also thanks to my husband being an excellent cook – and one who cooks enough for there to be leftovers between the two of us. It’s kind of like a metaphor for our relationship. We really are better together.

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