The Blessed Eggs of St. Benedictus

This post was inspired by a hilarious cookbook I saw at a used book sale called ‘Kitchen Scraps’. I highly recommend some skimage if you are ever in Chapters and don’t know what to waste your time on. In fact, I think I might buy this book because in addition to having some very easy do it yourself recipies, it really made me think about this next blog post.  There are a few things in this life that I am quite passionate about. But for the purpose of this post lets narrow it down to two: food and Jesus.

I love eggs benedict. Milestones restaurant makes a shrimp version perfectly which consists of half an English muffin, a layer of avocadoes, a slice of bacon and grilled shrimp with a perfect poached egg topped with deliciously fattening hollandaise. This is not the first time food has inspired me to write about God. There was that one time when I came back from Madonna House. Madonna House is a chocolateless Catholic community in the middle of nowhere. I thought living there for a week would teach me humilty and appreciation for the littlest of things. Boy, did it ever. I wept with joy when I ate my first piece of chocolate when I got back to Toronto.  God definatly exists.

 It is no surprise therefore that when I eat, I ponder what Heaven would be like. And now I know what my ideal heaven would be. I’m assuming whoever invented eggs Benedict was cannonized a saint(or should have been). Somewhere up there St. Benedictus is smiling down at this post. My idea of heaven would be an eternal food festival. St. Martha being the busy bee that she must have been thrilled when Jesus decided to appoint her as the head of catering. Any saint who ignores the Savior to cook food is perfect for that position. Martha however, has her own way around the kitchen and obviously has St. Benny pulling crazy shifts as the breakfast chef. But Benny doesn’t mind. He has the patience of a saint after all. In addition, he makes the best hollandaise sauce in the universe. And that includes other galaxies, universes and other religion’s heavens. Better wish you’re coming to Catholic heaven. The food’s a whole hell of a lot better. That’s right. I just went there. 

Lunch is a choice between St. Martha’s special grilled chicken (same chicken that laid the eggs for Benny’s breakfast) or the all-day breakfast. St. Martha wasn’t too happy about this as she was worried that everyone would choose all day breakfast (The Good Lord knows I would) over her chicken. But then one day she thought to herself “Who the heck cares? I’m a saint!”

That was the day she appointed St. Florentinus to make the Friday no-meat breakfast. The Friday no-meat breakfast also comes with a bacon option for all the heavenly patrons who eventually realise that this is heaven and the no-meat rules no longer count. Nobody is vegetarian in heaven. As the comedian Dan Ninan so eloquently put it “If God did not want us to eat animals, he would have made them out of tofu.”

Dinner is prepared by Jesus himself. He kills the fatted calf and makes Boeuf Bourguignon. The Man knows how to throw a party. He did say “whether you eat or drink…do it for the glory of God” (1Corinthian 10:31). Or did St. Paul say that?

The crown of all edible creations however, is the Starbucks fountain right by the Pearly Gates. Let thy Grande cup be ever brimming with a vanilla latte. We all know St. Peter’s venti is ever flowing for those long days at the Gates.

And that is one of the great things about Heaven. The food is to die for (pun kind of intended). I’m pretty sure everything is cooked in butter. The kind that could kill you. Only it can’t. Because you’re kind of dead already.  

Of course, I made all of this nonsense up and I really don’t know what heaven will be like. I know some other people’s idea of heaven is a place where the Toronto Maple Leafs are always playing a game and win the Stanley Cup each time. If that is possible, then I’m inclined to believe anything is possible. 

The Starbucks fountain though is a given.



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