When eggs wore ruffles
It was meant as a kindness. A helping out.
None of us thought so. It was only to be endured. Not questioned.
Off the wall. Not a bowl full of cherries. ©
Brother, being older which worked as being smarter, would grab toast and rush off – to somewhere – to practice for something – ANYTHING.
Leaving only the littles. Who politely smiled, nodded, and suffered.
Meals were normally prepared by working mom as she got home first. But on weekends and holidays, dad took to the stove for breakfasts.
Ruffle-dee eggs was his signature dish.
Dump a bunch of bacon grease in a big cast iron skillet. Be sure to turn up the heat much too high. Get some exercise leaping and hopping to avoid, and, then, grimace when the snappy, popping grease attacks. It’s like whack-a-grease-mole once the eggs are in. Dance among the sizzle until the fried eggs are fried, really fried.
You’ll recognize when the eggs are at their zenith: Crisp dark brown edges ruffled as much as a can-can dancer’s petticoats trimming the white part glowing with an oil slick of transparent color.
Tasting a bit like greasy crispy onionskin paper.
Like you know what that is… Think paper in the bottom of the box of warm fresh donuts.
Oh, we dreamed of warm, fresh, donut breakfasts. Never happened.
And none of those sugary breakfast cereals either. Not healthy.
Empty calories.
It’s a wonder we didn’t starve to death.
Deprived childhood.
I think we lived on laughter.
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge
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Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge 
I know onion skin and carbon paper and microfiche and mimeo, but I don’t know ruffled eggs. Actually, they sound pretty good right now. I was forced to move more quickly than I had planned this morning, and missed breakfast. Maybe I’ll ruffle an egg later!
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If the grease if hot enough, the ruffle are oddly like potato chips – just add salt/ketchup…grease is already there HA HA. The trick is to ruffle yet not make them rubbery like a rubber chicken (some poetic justice there?).
We used to have breakfast for dinner sometimes on Sunday nights…eggs. Never pancakes. We craved pancakes, but no.
Thanks for cooking up a comment to leave
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Nice ! I like your writing style. Funny topic too. I’m not a Dad (but I do have dad-bod) and I do most of the cooking. My battle scars from searing hot grease are legion. Thanks for the levity this morning 🙂
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me too… I mostly ate toast with mustard :o)
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Toast with mustard? Why haven’t I tried that?
As we got older, and got up much too early to watch cartoons on Saturday, we were allowed to eat raisin bran or cheerios….but we had to drink the milk left over once the cereal was gone…then it was yucky idea as it was sweet and milk shouldn’t taste sweet we used to complain. Didn’t help – no wasting milk…
HUGS to your realm. Thanks for toasting up a comment to leave!
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Laughter forms the base of the food pyramid, and provides the foundation for all good meals – even those with eggs fried in bacon and lots of love!
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When dad cooked eggs it was always hilarious – intentionally like a comic on stage. Who could complain about ruffles? Laughter is the only was to start the day. Thanks for serving up a comment for this plate
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That’s exactly how my Dad made eggs too! Must be a guy thing. All those brown ruffles.
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I was in college before I found out fried eggs did not have to have singed edges and moon craters. Mom always took the short cut and scrambled eggs then dished out servings.
Funny how breakfast makes such memories.
Thanks for frying up a comment for this pan
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I’m glad there was laughter. That made ruffled eggs fun. I didn’t know until I was grown that my poor mom was a night owl. She suffered through the prep of thousands of breakfasts when her mind was not attached to her body. She NEVER complained! I happen to be a morning person, so breakfast is a good thing in our house. How I wish I could follow Mom’s example and not complain when evening comes once a day!
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Looking back, Moms worked miracles – and we never knew for so long. Thanks for adding a comment to this carton.
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I got a good laugh out of this, although I’ll still have to have lunch shortly. My dad didn’t and doesn’t cook. When my brother and I were young, Dad had a fried egg every morning. He would eat the white on one side, then just barely cut into the yoke and pat it on top. My brother and I loved to get to pat the egg. What a funny memory! What I really think is funny is what you did with that photo 🙂
janet
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Fun with eggs. Who knew there were so many styles of egg breakfasts? What odd memories turn out to be the warmest. Thanks for baking the eggactly perfect comment. (glad you got a giggle over the pix)
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This brought back memories. My father cooked eggs the same way. If we weren’t vegetarian, my husband would too. Men seem to like cooking eggs on high heat and ruffling those edges.
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Maybe it’s the “Let’s hurry and get this over with” style of cooking? I was in college before I found out eggs weren’t always crunchy.
Thanks for adding a comment to this plate
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Oh, yes, it brought back memories too! My father never cooked breakfast (or anything else), but my mother cooked eggs just like this. Haven’t had a ruffles egg in years but they were good!
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Somehow the edges of those eggs were a bit like potatoe chips…especially with enough salt added. Breakfasts memories linger – isn’t that funny? Thanks for tossing a comment into the comment pan
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Ohhh, THOSE ruffle-dee eggs. Couldn’t imagine what you were talking about. But, yes, I used to fix those a lot when I was young.
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Nothing like ultra fast cooking to create some weird textured food. Oh, well, it’s fuel not entertainment sometimes. Hope the holidays have been entertaining and with warm-ish possible. (It was 80 here afew days. Sweltering and mosquitoes. Finally cold air arriving.)
Thanks for cooking up a comment
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Never heard of ruffled eggs, but do know about dipping eggs. Piece of bread with round hole in middle is tossed into frying pan, browned on one side, flipped over, then egg is plopped into the hole where the white cooks and the yolk gets warm but is still liquid. Eaten on plate by tearing off toasted bread, dipping it into the yolk, then snarfing down the cooked white. Not considered healthy today, but when I was a kid…
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Dipping eggs – sounds pretty fancy. (Is that a Toad in a Hole?).
Mom was all about easy and few steps – like scrambled eggs. You can do a whole bunch then scoop out servings. Also much faster to shovel in than to leisurely dip, I guess
Actually dipping eggs sound pretty good…might try that. Eggs are once again “healthy” but maybe needing to cook the yolk just a bit?
Thanks for frying up a comment
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My dad’s signature supper was fried spam and potatoes. I miss them.
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It’s the little odd things that bake into a memory. That one sounds like a treasure. Thanks for stopping by to see what’s cooking
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