Breakfast? We really should be calling it dinner. The Latin word disjejunare, the precursor of dinner, translates as break the fast. It wasnt until the Middle Ages that the abridged version, breakfast, came to denote the first meal of the day. No matter the name, the tradition of early morning sustenance has been with us since prehistoric times. Examination of Otzi the Iceman, the oldest known naturally preserved mummy, indicates his last meal was likely wheat pancakes. Bedouins enjoyed locusts mixed with butter, slathered on unleavened bread. And, before heading off to work on the pyramids, ancient Egyptians fortified themselves with hearty helpings of soup, bread, onions, beer, and (centuries before Silence of the Lambs), fava beans. During early medieval times, daybreak dining temporarily fell out of favor. (St. Thomas Aquinas labeled such a luxury as sinful.) Only two daily meals, mid-day and evening, were thought necessary. Fortunately, hungry noblemen soon put that revision to rest; by the 1500s, the day again began with breakfast. And, with the introduction of traditional work days during the Industrial Revolution, workers needed something to keep them going. Breakfast was it. By the mid-1800s, breakfast, for those who could afford it, was an elaborate undertaking. Heres what Isabella Beeton proposed as a simple breakfast buffet in her 1861 Book of Household Management: a cold joint of meat, game pies, broiled mackerel, sausages, bacon and eggs, muffins, toast, marmalade, butter, jam, coffee and tea. A suggested addition for the still-hungry: popcorn cereal. Thats right: popcorn swimming in milk, with just a bit of sweetener. Speaking of cereal, that ubiquitous component of the modern breakfast debuted in the late 1800s. Making mornings K-E-Double-L-O-Double-Good-Good were brothers Dr. John and Will Kellogg, whose initial effort, Corn Flakes, hit shelves in the 1890s. Dr. Kellogg, who ran a health sanitarium, promoted cold cereal as an aid to digestion. A patient, C.W. Post, evidently concurred: soon Post Toasties were giving Kelloggs Corn Flakes a run for their money. With the addition of sugar, the formerly bland cereals became indescribably yummy. And when General Foods, promoting Grape Nuts, dubbed breakfast the most important meal of the day, consumers wholeheartedly agreed. Houseware designers took note: important meals demanded important attention. By the mid-20th century, nearly every firm, from the California Cleminsons to Van Briggle Pottery, was dishing up at least a few kitchen items. There were whimsical coffee services, teapots, and mugs, salt and peppers, pitchers, colorful condiment servers, and childrens dishes, plus such time-savers as the tandem toaster and the buffet warming oven. With a wealth of stylish breakfast accessory options popping up like English muffins, getting the day off to a good start was never easier. Heading up the breakfast brigade was the Chase Brass & Copper Co., which almost single-handedly created a booming 1930s mini-industry in gleaming kitchenware. Were cooking at the table now! was the Chase battle cry. For those homemakers unsure of just what that entailed, a handy guide was thoughtfully provided: Seven thirty or eight in the morning, in the average American household: Mother prepares the meals, alone. Daddy must catch his train, the children must fly off to school. Life is hectic; the kitchen is a three-ring circus. Instead of this pandemonium, imagine mother taking her place at the table, where the Comet Coffee Maker begins its cheerful song. Beside her plate is the Table Chef, in which scrambled, boiled or poached eggs, bacon and fried eggs, sausages or pancakes may be cooked. How much nicer it is, not only for mother, but for daddy and the children, who like to see mother in her fresh morning dress at the table, rather than getting disheveled in the turmoil of the kitchen. Of course they do. After all, its the most important meal of the day. But is it breakfast or is it dinner? Either way, its a great excuse for wolfing down leftover pizza. Photo Associate: Hank Kuhlmann. Donald-Brian Johnson is the co-author of numerous Schiffer books on design and collectibles, including Postwar Pop, a collection of his columns. He favors bagels and orange juice for breakfast. Please address inquiries to: donaldbrian@msn.com.