Leftovers for breakfast. Yeah… (Can you feel the delicious satisfaction?)

It is a family tradition. At least on my side. My children inherited it from me. My husband did not.

He looks at me weird if I eat potato soup for breakfast, even if it has bacon in it. Or meatloaf sandwich (hey, there’s egg in there). Or even Yorkshire Pudding. I often eat them cold.

And then there is Pizza. Cold Pizza is a thing. A really tasty thing. Pietro’s. That’s the one it started with (the actual original Pietro’s Pizza on Industrial Way in Longview Washington). Before the days when frozen Pizzas were considered normal. We didn’t eat out for Pizza often. A couple times a year maybe until we were teens and could buy our own. But leftovers for breakfast happened as often as we could mooch them.

Tuna sandwiches were pretty great also, on the way out the door to the school bus at the end of the lane. You could saunter down that long lane and have time to eat the whole sandwich before you got to the bus stop.

My children naturally adopted the habit. Macaroni and Cheese, Stew, Burritos, Mexican Lasagna, Tuna Casserole, or anything else hearty left from the day before.

Kevin has come around to cold Pizza finally. And cold chicken. No idea why it took him so long, but he will eat either one for lunch at work now.  I haven’t persuaded him to Cold Spaghetti or Sloppy Joes for lunch, nor have I persuaded him to Pasta Salad for breakfast. He’s just not that daring yet.

He wasn’t here when I ate the leftover Seafood Alfredo this morning, with one reheated breadstick. He would have LOOKED at me… Like THAT, if he had been here.

But it was good. I heated it first. It is the sort of thing you DO heat if you can.

But if I had not been in a kitchen with a microwave oven, I WOULD have eaten it cold. And I would still have LIKED it.