One year ago, if you were looking for a
decent breakfast in Georgia, you'd be hard pressed. In the small
villages that dot the pristine Iverian countryside, activity doesn't
begin until 10 or 11, and by then the few cafes that might exist are
already preparing cheese-breads for lunch. The only thing that
lingers on the roads that early, other than students walking to
school, is the occasional slumbering street dog or the couple of cows
headed down the road to the pasture. In the capital city of Tbilisi,
the situation isn't much different. A walk around at nine o'clock is
akin to walking around New York at 5, though there's more wildlife in
the form of lurking dogs and the cats that live in dumpsters,
scattering at any sign of nearby movement (and much less sleeping
vagrants gathered around steam vents). At homes, when breakfast is
served, it seems that the "traditional Georgian" breakfast
is simply the leftover food from the night before, left out in a pot
sitting on and idle stove top.
The timing is, of course, one thing I
love about living in Georgia. I never have to worry about getting a
job that expects me in the office much before 10, which is ideal for
a night owl like me. But on the other hand, getting a breakfast,
even after 10, has been downright near impossible. Not even
McDonald's serves breakfast, which I think is a simple sacrilege in
the name of Ronald McDonald himself. Cheeseburgers for breakfast?
Really, guys?! And you call yourself Europeans! I think though,
with the influx of tourists and expats over the past few years, that
this trend has finally begun to change, though there's still no hope
in sight for the honored American institution that takes the premiere
places across Tbilisi.
I woke up one morning and stumbled to
Meidani Square, the main square of the Old Town, surrounded by
refurbished, centuries old buildings - and new buildings that at
least are made in a similar style - ringed with colorful balconies
and hanging green plants. All the greenery nearly reminds me of
Louisiana, a place in the States also known for its balconies, shades
of green and lazy, sunny afternoons. A few of my friends were
gathered on the porch of Tartine, a French restaurant that has long
been an establishment on the plaza. It's a restaurant I rarely
visit, since there's no dish under 15 lari, so it's out of the range
of my own proletarian refinement, but as I watched dish after dish
being served to my friends, I had to second guess my sensibilities.
There was a soup, a salad, some eggs benedict, coffee, mimosas, and
so on and so forth. Like a babushka yelling at her drunk grandson,
the tirade of food never ended. "What is this?"
"This is the Sunday brunch,"
they informed me. "It's 32 lari." I guffawed, but was
quickly in control of myself after doing a quick calculation of all
of the cuisine that had passed before my eyes and into their
stomachs. Was this the beginning of a new stage of European
development that Georgia was beginning to see? Breakfast?
Next I witnessed a local grocery store,
Smart on Rustaveli, serving all sorts of danishes and croussants, all
of which are delicious. Something was happening. But with the
current rise of anti-Western attitude, I can only imagine that there
might be a frothing mob of priests and birjaviki united again,
outside the supermarket, chanting such anti-Western slogans like,
"You can take your breakfasts back and eat it, America and
Netherlands!" or "Breakfasts are destroying the fabric of
Georgian culture!" or "We are not a breakfast country!"
or lastly, "Geobreakfastgia ara!"
Good things come in cycles here, so
maybe after the initial, anti-breakfast reaction, we will see
pro-breakfast riots and then some sensible dialogue in the form of
internet memes. Then I can finally see and taste again what all of
us expats have long been anticipating, an Egg McMuffin.
