I wish there was breakfast delivery. You would wake up in the morning, and your breakfast would be dropped off at the door. Or perhaps served to you in bed. I must still be dreaming.
Regardless, when the breakfast delivery failed and my refrigerator proved to be empty, I turned to the box of matzo leftover from Passover. I pulled out a single sheet of this unleavened bread and broke it in half.
Both sides got smeared with cream cheese. The savory-to-be-matzo was topped with thinly sliced tomato, cucumber, salt, pepper and the last sprigs of summer basil plant.
Who said breakfast had to be hard?