Thursday morning No. 4.

I awoke this morning with an unmistakable craving for my childhood. I wanted my mom, and a certain breakfast she used to make called milk toast, which consists of buttery toast, dusted in cinnamon and sugar and soaked with warm milk. It's not unlike hot cereal, but because it's made with toast, it's better. I use to love it, and my craving was so intense earlier I almost ran to the store to buy the ingredients. Instead, I took a long hot bath with a little baby oil (I loved this as a child, too), and when I emerged I was back to my savory breakfast-craving self. I didn't want milk toast, I wanted eggs. And I wanted someone else to cook them.

I love my Brooklyn neighborhood for many reasons, but especially for a handful of restaurants I would gladly eat at daily. One of them -- Egg -- is my go-to for breakfast, and not because it's a block away (although that is very nice). I like Egg because they give you crayons and your own French press with coffee so strong it makes you spin (that's a good thing). I like their pretty staff and the music they play while I wait (today it was Pavement). I like that the restaurant runs a farm outside the city on which they grow their own produce, and today there were little table tents announcing farm news (the lettuces are thriving and they torched their blighted tomato plants!). I love their menu. It's simple and honest and consistently great. They call my favorite dish Eggs Rothko, and it's essentially a grown-up version of what most people know as Eggs in a Basket. To make it, you need a thick piece of brioche with a hole cut in the center. Cooked in that hole is an egg, and melted on top is a slice of Grafton cheddar. I normally fry my mine, but Egg's version is easy-cooked and light. The Rothko is served with a gorgeous spoonful of broiled sweet tomatoes, and a choice of meat or seasonal vegetable. I opted for the latter, which today was sautéed ribbons of kale in a little olive oil. It was a delicious and far cry from milk toast, and yet so heart-warming. The only thing missing was mom.