Every once in a while, we fancy a cooked breakfast. A coffee and bacon roll don’t really count, and the last full fry up we had was at the hotel for my birthday in May.
Since I’ve been with SW, such goodies are still on offer and as long as I’m careful, I can have the bacon/ham, eggs, and most of the trimmings.
Google image: HONEST!
A good deterrent for me is only using 2 burners and my microwave, so hash browns, black pudding and sausages are missing from the plate, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, and I’ve heard that diet sausages are less tasty than the carton they come in. Hubby likes baked beans with his, but I prefer tomatoes.
I do have an itsy bitsy problem with fried bread, or ‘frying’ anything actually as I set the new smoke alarm off every blessed time, and nothing’s burning!
I love fried bread. I mean, Truly, Madly, Deeply.
It was one of the first things I learned how to cook, and it was not unusual for me to do myself a piece with a fried egg on top when I got home from school.
Cooked in lard (not dripping) at the time as oils weren’t part of Mum’s kitchen cupboard contents, it would turn out perfectly crunchy on both sides, and my egg had a lovely frilly brown edge over a runny centre. Great for dipping!
I can hear any nutritionists/dietitians/health experts amongst you gasping in horror, but believe me, my mouth is watering at the thought of that Celestial Fix from yesteryear which is a definite no-no now.
And so we come to our start to the day the other morning: