Last summer, the kids and I spent a month in Italy, ensconced in a farmhouse with dear friends near the coast in Marche, with plenty of day trips to gorgeous beaches, amazing restaurants and mad legit medieval festivals. (Yes, this is going to be a tough act to follow. This summer will be a great time to teach the boys that life isn't always crazy perfect. See you at the neighborhood park!) Every morning, I woke up before everyone. (This only happens in a perfect Summer-in-Italy world, thanks to time zone changes.) My friends' son Guido Jack, another early riser, was often waiting on the sofa patiently, curious to see what I would make for breakfast. I felt the need to perform. With limited trips to the grocery store, my surprise options were few. But what about popovers?