Let me tell you about breakfast.
Late Night Not-so-hacking
Last night, I’d decided to pay a visit to an old haunt of mine – the Rialto Theatre. Thinking to just lounge around amidst the noise of that cult classic the Rocky Horror Picture Show and maybe poke around a bit at either brine or spexy. No serious work, just sitting in the sea of sound and riding the distraction.
It proved too distracting.
Mind you, I’ve had success with this in the past. There are nights where hanging in the lobby gets you just enough volume to make you pay attention to the things in front of you. My friend Mike has made me dwell more consciously on this phenomenon, where before I rode through it unawares.
But last night, there was simply too much going on. Too many people that I wanted to pay attention to. I started thinking about approaching the problems with barrel, and moments later I’d lose all focus. So I packed it in, bailed-out, and head home.
And this is why I don’t feel bad for sleeping in until 11am and subsequently staying there working on my changes in peace and quiet.
But this post isn’t about my sleep schedule.
Bacon & Eggs
Today I am going to share with you the secrets of the lazy bastard version of bacon and eggs. And toast. And coffee.
You will require the following:
- a stove
- coffee maker
- instant coffee 1
- a coffee mug 2
- a toaster
- two slices of bread
- a fork
- a frying pan
- two eggs
- two or three slices of bacon
- a clean paper towel
- a jar of horrors 3
There’s no butter on that list. Because all my butter is spoiled, and even when I buy butter, I forget to use it and it spoils. Other people bring me butter sometimes, and then they cook. When they leave, they leave the butter. And then the butter spoils. So I never bother trying to cook with butter.
Begin by starting the coffee. If all else goes well, it will be done by the time everything else is. If everything else goes to hell, well at least you’ll have the coffee.
Next grab your frying pan. If it’s dirty from yesterday’s breakfast, clean it off under running water. If for some reason you have a clean pan, give it a quick rinse anyway. Don’t bother to dry it off.
Switch on the eye, and set the damp frying pan on it. While it heats up, listen for the sizzle of water to let you know it’s actually doing something. This is the perfect time to fight with the cling-film you keep the bacon in. Once you’ve obtained the (two-to-three slices of) bacon from its shimmering coccoon, toss them into the pan. Lovingly re-wrap the remainder and put away in the fridge.
Employ the fork on the bacon. Get it arranged, press it down. Play with it, whatever. I don’t know how to describe the act of cooking bacon, just make something up. Eventually the individual strips will have shrunk to what looks like the right size and the right color. When you feel happy with how things are coming along, pluck them from the pan and drop them onto the paper towel. The towel will soak up the burning hot grease while you continue work on the next step. Switch off the stove eye.
Pour the grease from the pan into the jar of horrors. Be careful, it’s bad if you screw this step up. A hot grease spill will ruin your morning like nothing else. If you do not have a jar of horrors, you can create one by taking an empty pickle jar and pouring hot bacon grease into it.
Set the pan aside somewhere stable. There will be a bit of grease left coating it, and that’s just fine.
Get the slices of bread, and put them into the toaster. Put the remaining bread away. These scant moments give the pan a moment to cool off from dammit hot to regular hot.
Return to the pan and pour a bit of half&half in. How much? Just eyeball it and think to yourself, will this much mix well with two eggs? Then crack two eggs into the pan. Switch the stove eye back on to a bit over half heat and move the pan onto it. Employ the fork to break up and stir the eggs, bacon grease, and half&half into a mixture. The substance should slowly turn into something rather akin to scrambled eggs.
When you are satisfied that the eggs look about right, switch off the heat and remove the pan from the stove to somewhere stable.
By now the bacon should have dried, the toaster should have popped, and the coffee should have percolated. Move the bacon into the pan. Move the toast into the pan. Pour the coffee into the mug.
You can now consume your delicious breakfast directly from the pan, using the same fork you cooked it with. Consider the rest of the day as you stare out the kitchen window – should you go downtown, or maybe post in your blog? When you’ve finished, scrape any leftovers into the trash or nearby dog 4, and toss the pan and fork into the sink where they can remain until you want breakfast again tomorrow.
It should be noted that I have an electric, flat-top stove. If you have an electric coil-type stove, or a gas stove, then the timing on these instructions may be wildly altered. If so, you’re on your own, godspeed.
Now I think I’ll go downtown.
If you grind your own coffee or whatever, then you have the time to make a “proper” breakfast, so go do that instead.↩
If you are the sort of person who opts to drink the coffee straight from the carafe, the mug is optional.↩
The jar of horrors is optional for those who have a septic tank and don’t care [how bad it gets]. If you’re on city sewer, you’ll need the jar.↩
I don’t have a dog, but in my imagination they’d love this part↩