When Victor was a little kid, his mom called fried eggs “Dunky Eggs” because they could dunk their toast into the yolks.  When his nieces and nephews were born, the tradition continued.  Of course, for the grand kids, she would actually cut the toast in strips for them to dunk.  Grand kids always rank higher.  You can spoil them and then give them back.  And smart kids don’t pull temper-tantrums with grandparents.

My father’s version of fried eggs were cooked in a cast iron skillet in a gallon of bacon grease.  They were almost deep-fried.  And damn, were they good!   His breakfasts were legendary.  Piles of fried potatoes, bacon and toast. Not to mention the endless cups of Lady Lee coffee… But I digress…

This morning I started out with my favorite Niman Ranch bacon.  I love Niman Ranch.  Bill Niman started his business some 35 years ago in Marin County.  It is proof that we don not need factory farms. It has grown to a network of family farms supplying quality meats.  If you buy Niman Ranch meat, you can be sure the animal was humanely treated and slaughtered, that it was pasture-raised and lived outdoors in a traditional farm setting, and that it was not fed growth hormones or antibiotics.  Real food, raised naturally.  It’s what it’s supposed to be all about.

The potatoes were baby yukon gold’s, sliced and fried in a bit of grapeseed oil. garlic, salt, and pepper.  The eggs were fried in butter – Plugra, of course – and the whole wheat bread used for the toast was free of partially-hydrogenated fats and high-fructose corn syrup.  I don’t care what those commercials – put out by the corn industry – say; high-fructose corn syrup is evil and I will not consume it in any way, shape, or form.

Real food, real ingredients, minimally processed…  Breakfast was great!