Alt title: The Day I Punched My Stomach In The Face For No Fault Of Its Own
I was deeply hung over, one of those "I'm getting too old for this shit..." hangovers. I needed something terrible, a food crime, to save my Sunday. Of course, bacon would be an integral part so into the pan it went. After that, the pieces slowly fell into place...
"An egg, yes, fried in the bacon grease. But I'm out of bread. All I have are these stale glazed... donuts..." [Picture a light bulb mysteriously appearing over my head.]
So the bacon was grilled, then the egg was fried in the bacon grease, and then the donut was browned in the very same pan. A cup of coffee to wash this abomination down completed the anti-hangover magic. And despite all my misgivings, it actually tasted fantastic.