What does a food and travel writer eat for a birthday breakfast? It depends upon the person, of course, as well as the day’s flow. I wanted something that would feel special, but light, since I was having dinner at my absolute favorite Boston restaurant–Mistral. I adore their crisp-skinned duck and order it every time I go.

In putting together this morning meal I was reminded of how lovely it is to place your food on nice dishes. You also want to arrange it artfully–not just plop it down in a big, fat heap. I learned all this in Japan, where I came to appreciate that every bowl, plate, or platter has a story, based on how you acquire it. Using certain dishes evokes specific memories and taking the time to arrange your food in a delicate way creates a more thoughtful and pleasing moment at the table.

So, here is what I made. I began, as I always do, with a large mug of coffee. I usually use an equal mix of Starbucks decaf Sumatra and Gold Coast blend (both dark roasts), ground at six, and dripped through a paper filter. Having just returned from Costa Rica, where I drank some excellent organic coffee, I’m on the hunt for a syrupy, robust organic bean and new brand. The mug comes from a pottery store in Deruta, which I visited this summer.

The rectangular ceramic plate holding the various tidbits was a gift my husband gave me several years ago for Christmas. It looks Japanese and he knew I’d adore it. I do! On the left of the plate sits a tiny dish I bought in Japan. I usually use it to hold soy sauce, but felt it would be perfect holding a few chunks of pineapple (from Costa Rica, no less). If you look closely, you’ll see a crack at the top of the dish. I broke the saucer several years ago, but glued it together because I love it so much. The Japanese believe a mended item is actually more precious than the original because it shows scars of survival. I love that. The middle of the plate holds a piece of homemade whole-wheat cranberry bread that I toasted, cut into thirds and stacked. On the right rests a Chinese teacup filled with goat’s milk yogurt, some toasted sunflower seeds, and a dollop of spiced pumpkin butter from Trader Joe’s.

The tiny fork that I used to eat the pineapple was a gift from my husband. It’s an antique cake fork he bought at Portobello Market a few years ago on a business trip to London. The small spoon–I am embarrassed to say–made its way into my purse on my first flight to Japan in 1986. It was small, rounded, and begged me to take it home. Nowadays, I know better and would politely ignore its plea.

It was a perfect little breakfast–tasty, satisfying, and poetic. Oh, and as you can see, Abner chose a banana.