Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Breakfast Tacos.

It’s really too soon to be sentimental about Austin. I’m very absorbed in loving my new life here. But there are things I miss. Like my friends. And breakfast tacos. You can get decent tacos here, but they’re not ubiquitous like they are in Austin. And I haven’t come across breakfast tacos at all.

I’m not working today, but I got up at 6 with C. We went to bed early last night, and I slept well because I hadn’t slept well the previous two nights. The feeling of being close to him is more compelling than sleep -- I find myself sometimes not wanting to drift off.

I spent the morning reading. I finished Myra Breckinridge.

My roommate M. got up at about 10 and made more coffee. By then I was hungry, so I went downstairs planning to warm up a couple tortillas with some cheese for a late breakfast. The onions in a bowl by the stove caught my eye, so I cut one up, thinking I’d make a quesadilla with fried onion and hot sauce. But, since I had the pan out, it seemed silly not to scramble a couple eggs, too. Then I saw one red potato sitting there and suddenly I was slicing it thin and throwing it in the pan with the onion and some butter.

I put the rest of the onion in a plastic bag and was putting it in the fridge when I saw the bacon and the whole game changed. I had bought it for the bean soup I made a couple weeks ago, and there were a few strips left which I had sort of forgotten about. I threw them in the pan. (Normally, I would start with the bacon and drain off most of the fat before I cooked the potato and egg, but, since I didn’t find the bacon till I had the other stuff cooking, I fried bacon in butter. I fried bacon in butter. Which is illegal in San Francisco.)

When everything was brown and crispy on the edges, I turned down the heat and threw in the eggs. I warmed the tortillas, put a couple slices of sharp cheddar on each and then piled on the eggs/potato/bacon/onion. A little hot sauce. I would’ve posted a photo but they disappeared too fast. Nostalgia is fucking delicious.


mzza said...

delicious nostalgia aside, what did you think of Myra B? you gonna watch Racquel's moving picture version now?

Steven said...

It was a fun read, but very puzzling. I don't have a clue what any of it means or what Vidal was trying to say. Especially the ending.