Last Saturday, when we all dragged our hungover asses** to the excellent little restaurant in Tennessee where none of the cups, plates and silverware match, the exceedingly nice waitress ticked off what items were available at the All-You-Can-Eat Breakfast Bar. She mentioned eggs, bacon, sausage, ham, pancakes, biscuits ‘n gravy and “fried baloney.” (Yeah, I know it’s spelled “bologna,” but to me, “Bologna” is a city in Italy).
”Did she say ‘fried baloney?’”
Yowza! Say no more. I’m having at the Breakfast Bar.
You see, fried baloney was a staple in our house as I was growing up. We regularly had fried baloney sandwiches and baloney and eggs for breakfast, lunch or dinner. To this day I think that fried baloney and eggs are an important part of a hangover breakfast, which I have managed to cook at times when only one eye would open and I could barely swallow my own spit.
In the Tennessee Café, it was served in single, rather thickish slices. I liked it fine, but the way I have always made it begins with thinly sliced baloney. You cut the baloney into bite-sized pieces and fry it for about three minutes. Then, you dump scrambled eggs over the baloney in the frying pan and cook until firm.
You gobble that down with rye toast with lots of butter on it, and you wash it all down with strong, black coffee. The finishing touch is a cold, carbonated beverage (cream soda works well) to clear out all the grime in your throat.
Then, if at all possible, you take a nap.
There you have it.
** Except for Bou, Morrigan and Sissy, all of whom were farookin’ “perky.”