Years ago my future husband and I shared a communal beach house with a group of friends in Rehoboth, Delaware, congregating each weekend for fun in the sun. Please don’t picture anything like The Jersey Shore television program. This was different. We found our fun cooking for each other and called ourselves The Breakfast Club.
Our food was legendary among the other beach house groups. Each year we kicked off the summer season with a Memorial Weekend Bash featuring our signature dish, the grand marnier injected, chocolate covered strawberries served on an elegant silver platter. They never lasted long. The strawberries and our other tasty offerings such as sliced mini-filet on toast points topped with mustard sauce set a high standard for the other groups to follow.
Our cooking ringleader was our friend Beverley who commanded the kitchen and who each week organized our Sunday brunches. A typical menu included Dutch Baby pancakes, frittatas with herbs and vegetables, omelets and Delaware’s famous pork scrapple. Not your typical beach grub. Invitations were highly sought-after, not just for the food but for our bloody mary and mimosa libations.
The group has grown over the years as new friends joined. But eventually everyone became beach house alumni. Nearly all of us married and many children came along. But we always stayed connected through two traditions – our group Thanksgiving feast and our holiday champagne toast.
Beverley made it all about family. And after all these years we remain that way. This weekend, after a longer than normal interval, we gathered at Bev’s house for our traditional champagne toast. We raised our glasses and celebrated over twenty years of being the Breakfast Club.