Killer these days is often a substitute for awesome. Killer home-grown tomatoes. Awesome home-grown tomatoes. That’s a good thing. But then again, sometimes Killer means just that – a killer.
For reasons that will become abundantly clear, the names have been changed in the tale to follow. Sad, but very true.
Brother Dear worked at a steakhouse from the time he was sixteen until it closed it’s doors nearly 30 years later. Early on in his kitchen career, Brother Dear became friends with a busboy who was working his way through college. The busboy came from a very large family. His parents were – how do I put this -calculating. Both very intelligent people with a strange common goal – to produce attractive, successful, high-functioning children. Six children, all attractive, all gifted. All perfect. Natural born leaders with intense drive. Failure in this family was not an option. The busboy, we’ll call him Mike, had a younger brother – let’s call him Kyle. Kyle adored his older brother, followed him everywhere.
One morning, my house was filled with friends sleeping everywhere – the sofa, chairs, even the floor. We all loved to play Backgammon and often my place hosted all-night tournaments. With the except of Kyle, all my overnight guests worked in the restaurant businesses. If you know anything about the business, you know the hours are off from the rest of the world. Sleep days, work nights and socialize in the wee morning hours.
On this particular occasion both Mike and Kyle had spent the night. When I woke up, Kyle was in the kitchen preparing breakfast for everyone. Kyle said the scrambled eggs were a favorite in his house, and fed a large group without much effort. That was the most I had ever heard from him. Unlike his older brother who was very outgoing, Kyle was the quiet reserved type. He was right about one thing – the eggs were delicious, easy to make and fed a houseful of people.
A few months later, Kyle met a girl he liked very much. He made no secret of his intentions. However; she was not interested. It really didn’t seem to matter what Kyle did, she rejected him. He didn’t know what to do with rejection. He had no way to process it. One dark night, Kyle followed her home from work and gunned her down in her driveway. The shock rippled through our small community. What I will never forget is what Kyle said when arrested – failure was not an option. His parents would never understand. How could she say no? For Kyle, eliminating her meant the rejection and failure never happened. It was erased.
Failure is always an option. It’s part of the growing process, part of the discovery process. So is rejection. I still make eggs the way Kyle taught me, especially when I have a crowd to feed. And I think of that quiet, bewildered child who genuinely seemed surprised that the girl of his dreams did not feel what he did. He was all of sixteen. They say it’s the quiet ones you need to look out for. And you never can tell what might fester just below the surface.
Oh, and one more thing – you might notice that the list of ingredients for these Killer Eggs don’t match the photos. That’s because this recipe is easy to reduce or increase as needed. Feed a crowd or a small family. The day I snapped the photos, it was for a filling breakfast to feed two. Always delicious.
Killer Scrambled Eggs Skillet
4 Green Onions
4 slices White Bread
1 lb Breakfast Sausage
1 tablespoon Butter
12 large Eggs
1/2 cup Mild Cheddar Cheese
Trim and discard root end from green onions. Slice remaining onions and set aside. Cut bread into small cubes, set aside.
In a skillet over medium-high heat, crumble sausage. Brown meat, breaking into small pieces as it cooks. Add bread cubes and butter to the sausage. Lower heat to medium-low, stir and cook until butter melts and bread cubes begin to toast lightly.
Add eggs, season with salt and pepper to taste and scramble into the sausage mixture. Continue to cook over medium-low heat until eggs are cooked through and fluffy.
Remove from heat. Add green onions and shredded cheese. Stir, allowing cheese to melt into the scrambled eggs.
Serve and enjoy.
8 thoughts on “Killer Scrambled Eggs Skillet”
What a sad story
It is. Sometimes we don’t realize the pressure we put on our children for perfection.
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That’s a terrible tale, but you know, you handle it really well, not shying away from any part of it but adding anything either, just letting it speak for itself. Which it does, powerfully.
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