What a wonderful, unexpected treat. Sunday Breakfast by Tom the Hubby.
We attended church last night, an option we don't normally take --which means Sunday breakfast is not normally a slow, leisurely affair. Today; however, it was.
He started with our own processed bacon.
Cooked in a cast iron skillet, seasoned by age.
Pressed to ensure crispiness.
Dried on a paper towel, awaiting plating.
You will see how delicious this was with the toast slathered in butter or grape jelly goodness next to the eggs either sunny side up (Tom) or broken yolk and swirled to make a wonderful yolkiness (Kathy).
Our taste buds got the better of the photo op.
Gone, gone, gone.