When I was fixing fried eggs and bacon last weekend, something on TV triggered a memory from my childhood. Almost every breadfast I can remember at my grandparents involved eggs, bacon, gravy, and Grandma's homemade biscuits.
I'm not bragging when I say my homemade biscuits are more than passable but they don't begin to compare with Grandma's. Spread with her homemade cinnamon applebutter. Ummm-Mmm But that's another memory.
Sunday morning, while I was carefully trying to flip an egg without getting it all over the skillet, I remembered that when I was very much younger, my grandpa told me he liked it when I fixed his eggs because Grandma always broke the yolks and I never did and that's the way he liked them.
It suddenly occurred to me that Grandma may have broke the yolks because that's the way she liked them.
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