My Grandpa Archibald called eggs cackleberries. When we would visit he cooked breakfast of fried eggs (never scrambled), bacon, wheat toast, and whole wheat cereal. My Grandfather would sing hymns the entire time he was cooking breakfast. There was something special about waking up to the smells and the sound of the food cooking and my Grandpas voice. I always looked forward to the experience although I wasn't overly fond of eggs.
Fast forward a few dozen years...I love eggs. I love the shape of the soft, brown, orbs. I love their centers of yellow sunshine. They make me happy. I wonder if eggs have a happiness inducing compound in them? I love them soft poached and served over lightly toasted, buttered (smart balance) sourdough bread; With slices of cold tomato underneath. Topped off with a dab of hollandaise sauce and some chopped avocado. MMM...yum...I love you cackleberries.
2 comments:
Thanks for that memory...I forgot that Grandpa called them that...I always thought it was Grandma who fixed breakfast though....??? Maybe it was a team effort??
MMMM....I remember the smell of Grandma and Grandpa's in the morning. It makes me want some cream of wheat right now.
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