Eastside Road, May 13, 2013—FOR DINNER, SIMPLY a fried-egg sandwich and a green salad.
I remember the fried-egg sandwiches I packed in my lunchbox when I was in sixth and seventh grades. Mom made the bread, which began full of holes when the yeast was new, and got denser and denser until the slice wasn't much bigger than the cross-section of a two-by-six. The egg, of course, was cold and clammy.
Tonight's was considerably better, fried in butter, served on Como bread from the Downtown Bakery.
Cheap Provençal rosé