A few mornings ago, I awoke yearning for the real deal breakfast, one that included a large stack of fluffy, cinnamon-y slabs of French toast or maybe light, puffy pancakes drizzled — or even better, dripping — with real maple syrup. I had dreamt of this breakfast throughout interterm, a period bereft of pancakes, waffles and French toast.

Throughout this fall, I found myself craving a hamburger. However, it couldn’t be just any burger. I needed one bursting with flavor in each bite of tender, juicy beef, and with each weekend, my hunger nagged at me and reminded me that I had not fulfilled my dream. Soon the desire morphed into a necessity, and I could hold off no longer.