Lest you think I’m a recovering addict my old drug was French Toast. Most mornings I go with scrambled eggs or a bowl of Cheerios and fresh fruit, but when I crave something with a little more personality I’m drawn to those pancakes. Actually, it’s singular. I order just one. I don’t know what it’s like where you live, but here (and I think most of North America) ordering pancakes results in about two pounds of breakfast which is more than I can eat. There was a time in the not too distant past where I would have made a valiant (some might say idiotic) attempt to eat everything put before me and rolled out of the diner a wafer-thin mint away from exploding. Now, I am actually able to just say no.
All things chocolate, however, have yet to be tamed.