Saturday mornings are glorious. I relish the chance to sleep in a little later, snuggle the Pablonater a little longer, and breathe a little deeper. Sometimes I will welcome the start of the weekend with a sweaty yoga sesh at the gym, but more often than not I can't resist the temptation to sit in my puffy green chair in the living room and sip coffee while reading a good book. 

But the best way of all to enjoy a Saturday morning is to have breakfast with a dear friend.  My friend Karita came over last weekend for an early breakfast and coffee-drinking date.  I was so excited to have an excuse to cook something other than microwave oatmeal - my weekday morning staple. But it had been a busy week and we didn't have a lot of food in the refrigerator.  Thinking about what I could whip up in a flash and with very few ingredients, I decided to make popovers. 

Well, I'm happy (and slightly ashamed) that after two and a half long months, I am finally getting around to sharing another recipe with you. January, February, and March in Maine are a quarter of the year with which I can never quite reconcile. My thought process during those months goes something like this:
  •  January - I will OWN this new year.  I will keep up with my blog, I will cook healthy, and I will be a nice, always-dressed-in-real-pants wife.  And I will be a stellar teacher. 
  • February - Well, I went to the gym twice.  And what's so wrong with wearing leggings? It's not so bad to eat a whole loaf of garlic bread. When is vacation?
  • March - Hot, cold, snow, sun. What are these feelings I am even having? This "Spring Forward" crap is baloney.  I needed that hour of sleep. I've been robbed - now I'll never catch up. I'm grumpy. I guess I'll just go eat a block of cheese. 

And so when April 1st finally came, I welcomed it with a newfound sense of hope (and a touch of caution....being an elementary teacher on April Fool's Day is scary). That day the sun peeped out, the air was uncharacteristically warm, and the peepers blasted us with a cacophany of chirping bliss.  I finally decided I must get out of the rut I had fallen prey to.  So I cooked a real meal that night instead of ordering pizza.  And what better meal to please the masses and soothe the soul, I thought, than beef and broccoli, our all-time favorite take-out fake-out?