• An oversized bowl of fresh and dried fruit: pineapple, melon, kiwi, orange, figs and dates, with a dash of flax seeds
• Whole wheat bread, still warm and doughy at 7am, slathered with peanut butter—I think only the second time I’ve had glorious peanut butter in over a year
• The same warm and doughy whole wheat bread, slathered in blood orange marmalade—as amazing as it sounds
• Fresh orange juice
• Coffee with soy milk
• Banana, orange, apple—in that order
• Falafel sandwich
• Tea + a tummy ache (I was going to spin to repent for my Italian overeating sins, but I didn’t have it in me. The good thing is, I am finally full.)
* Do you have any idea how hard it was starting this particular Monday as a vegan?
In two short days, I had become addicted to the resort’s buffet breakfast. You know those buffets at which you can consume your entire day’s calories with two return trips to the counter? It was one of these. But I didn’t even indulge in the pastries, breads or cakes (I’m loyal to French and American pastries; not a big fan of the Italian varieties). I didn’t order pancakes or frittata or smoked salmon or waffles with maple syrup. Instead, I consumed shameful amounts of fresh ricotta with dried figs. And Bircher muesli with sweet pitted dried plums. Of all the beautiful, indulgent things at the resort—and there were many of them—the breakfast buffet was my favorite. And skipping out on the ricotta and figs the last day was a bit crushing. Though maybe worth it for the taste of peanut butter.