Grandpa Gotta Cook—Steak And Eggs with Fruit

Sometimes A Man Has A Hankerin'

A hankerin' for steak. Steak that's prime and juicy. Not so cooked it looks like the remains of a volunteer fire department's burn-to-learn, but not so raw that it still moos and kicks you in the teeth (what's left of 'em). Somewhere in between, I reckon, is where that cooked meat should be.

Having paid no heed to this hankerin' for days, I finally set out on a quest to appease this craving of mine, by going where I always go to find meat—the freezer. In it, I found an assortment of steaks—T-bone, flat steak, and this:

Steaks with some black pepper and salt, sizzling in a proper skillet.

Prime USDA choice steaks, ready to go. There's four adult mouths to feed around here, so I reckoned I couldn't go wrong with these beauties.

And I was right. Riding out on the dusty trail, herdin' dogies, you get a sense for this kind of thing.

Now, there's an unwritten law when it comes to cookin'. It's not quite like the Code of the West, but nonetheless, this unwritten law must be obeyed. It's the way. And what is the way? If Grandpa's cooking, find the way to incorporate the following ingredients:

Orange bell pepper, tomatoes, a touch of onion, and mushrooms.

I don't know why it's an unwritten law, it just is. I try not to ask myself why. It gets in the way of the do. Us trail riders are men of action. We leave the worryin' and the whyin' to the townsfolk.

Now, there's many things that go with steak, if done right. Potatoes for one. You can fry 'em, you can bake 'em, you can mash 'em, and you can hash brown 'em. In my head, I'd fully intended to include some kind of potato, but then, someone else stepped in, put their foot down, and demanded something else be included:

The wife.

What did she want? This:

Strawberries, apples, mango, grapes, cantaloupe and pineapple.

Fruit. Now, a real man doesn't mind the sweet taste of a berry here and there, or maybe even a ripe apple plucked fresh from the perturbed farmer's tree, but six bowls plum brimmin' with all kinds of fruit? No sir. That's enough to churn even the most cast ironed belly.

Unfortunately, what the little missus wants, the little missus gets. And since she did all the cuttin' I reckoned no harm done.

Back to the man cookin'.

Aside from the steak and the tasty fixin's, I'd also been hankerin' for another trail riders' trusty dusty companion—fried eggs:

Sizzling eggs on an open glass stove top, rife with bacon grease.

A man's got to live on the edge sometimes. Nothin' edgy about fried eggs you say? Well, this t'weren't no mamby pamby continental breakfast barfay I was preparin'. No sir. This was a man's breakfast, for dinner. There's a difference. A big one. If you can't see it, you might need some of them readin' spectacles they sell at the five and dime.

There was one more ingredient that was going to make this manliest of meals complete. And it wasn't going to be more fruit, or yogurt, or whatever else the wife could conjure up. It was going to be bacon.

Strips of bacon popping in its own grease, along with pan-seared steak. And bacon.

This was going to be the winning culinary trifecta—steak and eggs with bacon. Yessiree, the combination of heart stoppin', cholesterol cloggiin' artery burstin' ingredients that would make the taste buds dance like summer rain on the thirsty prairie and the stomach sing like a coyote round the campfire.

There was just the matter of the vegetables to get going:

More fryin'. More sizzlin'.

And this trail rider's dinner delight would be done. As in done did done.

Just a few more things to round out this meal. I believe in the fancy vernacular, they refer to it as garnishment. I call it, stuff I like to eat.

Some dabs of sour cream (to content the little missus) and a few slices of avocado, and the man's man dinner was complete.

This all happened last Sunday night, after spending most of the day contemplating the beauty of the universe, and what I was going to cook.In the end, the hankerin' would not be denied. I'd been wanting steak for days. And I finally got it.

Author's note: Unlike other attempts at meals, this one went off without a hitch. Half, post, or in my git-along.

_{All images by Glen A. Albrethsen on an iPhone 6s}