My husband makes interesting breakfasts. He is fond of the mixed breakfast. I like a blended breakfast (and dinners lately). Smoothies, in a blender. Green ones to be exact. Here’s a typical mixed breakfast for my husband: grits with sausage mixed in. Or eggs with cheese and rice mixed in. The point is that everything is mixed together. His brother makes a breakfast meal he calls the garbage plate. It’s basically a biscuit covered with eggs, cheese, meat, grits and gravy (and anything else you want to throw in!). Let’s just say, I’m not a fan.
When I was little, I didn’t like any of my food to touch. The peas, meat and potatoes all had to be separated on my plate. I think the origin of this for me was that I had one of those plates with built-in dividers. Once I graduted to a regular plate I wanted to keep everything separated. Creature of habit. I even used rolled up napkins between everything. And God forbid that any juice from one thing spilled onto anything else. I would almost scream. Yes, my neurosis started early.
So, my husband likes it mixed. And, I, being ever contradictory and extremist, like it separate or blended.