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Matters of taste: Two Americas, two breakfasts

Living in Boston, I wake up every morning to an enviable American dilemma: what to do for breakfast? Diner food, the great American breakfast, is a wondrous down-home institution: eggs sunnyside-up or over-easy, crispy bacon, thick pancakes, waffles, oatmeal, maple syrup poured liberally over everything. Served all day and any way you want it. But there’s a new kid on the block: the artisanal coffee house where your day begins with single-estate espresso or a bitter chocolate cappuccino so carefully made it beats the pants off anything you drink in Rome. I am eternally torn between the old and the…

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