Like me, you have a great deal of trouble frying eggs, but are not currently in the market for egg-frying advice. (I am not in the market for egg-frying advice; I am too contrary by half for it at the moment, probably due to a lack of choline.) They dribble out into enormous white pancakes no matter how hot you make the flame, and no matter how many wee saucers you crack the eggs into…
Winter had set in, which meant that for a good six months Stacy had constant fantasies of lighting her house on fire and moving to Florida. One nice thing about winter was that it inspired Les to make his famous omelets. He'd promised her a nice big batch for breakfast tomorrow, and she'd picked up some fresh eggs at the store to make sure she had enough. She finished putting away the cereal, the cans…
EJ Graff asks: what's next for the gay rights movement? Spoiler: "breaking the nation out of its gender straitjacket."
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I made this for dinner last night (a comical marital misunderstanding having left boneless, SKINLESS chicken breasts in my fridge, the horror) with sauteed spinach/garlic/red pepper flakes on the side, and it was incredible and then for breakfast I served the leftover sauce over fried eggs. WHAT.
"He couldn't tell me anything I didn't know about the old boy's eccentricity. This Lord Worplesdon was Florence's father. He was the old buster who, a few years later, came down to breakfast one morning, lifted the first cover he saw, said 'Eggs! Eggs! Eggs! Damn all eggs!' in an overwrought sort of voice, and instantly legged it for France, never to return to the bosom of his family. This, mind you, being a bit of luck for the bosom of…
