Cereal, for better or worse, is my go-to breakfast. Furthermore, I like fruit atop said bowl of whatever flakes, ohs, clusters, nuggets or magically extruded matrices (Life, I'm looking at you, baffled). Banana slices are my most frequent topping, with raisins a close second. Blueberries or strawberries are in the mix. Dried cranberries, too. Rarer, but also enjoyable, have been diced peaches or nectarines.
Yesterday at sun-up, though, I veered in a new direction. The usual fruit suspects were not on hand, but I did spy a lone plum in the fridge. Why not? I decided, chopping the little globe into bite-sized pieces, scattering them over Cheerios, and splashing on soy milk. The combination proved delicious, leaving me marveling at there still being undiscovered country in cereal consumption.
And that illustration captures the way I most often cook these days: improvisationally. In matters of cereal or salad or stir fries or stews, show me a template in which I can plug and play nearly infinite variations, and I revert to being a kid in a sandbox seeing what I can make.