fried potato egg scramble and a trip down memory lane

Every summer, for many years while the children were being born and growing up, my mummy and I and the kidletts would all go up to Crestline, a small mountain community in the mountains near Lake Arrowhead for a week or so in the summer. I have pictures in my scrapbook of them in all stages of childhood near the same rock, or in the same pool or by the same growing tree. We bowled, swam, ate. It was a small town. There wasn’t much else to do.

One of my favorite food memories was my mother making this scramble with fried potatoes and cheese and eggs and either bacon or ham, depending on what we picked up at the town store. We would walk and carry the food to the cabin. The cabin was on the main highway, so it wasn’t far to walk. Sometimes a new place would open up and we would eat there, like a mexican restaurant and a Round Table pizza. Right across the street was our favorite chinese place. As the kids got older we could leave them in the cabin and walk across the street to eat there, knowing there was only a few yards and a roaring highway with speeding vehicles separating us from the kids.

the cheese is hiding all the goodness inside. Kind of makes me think there should be a parable in there somewhere…

My mom would boil a potato until just soft.

Then chop it up and fry it in some oil. Or cook some bacon and fry it in the bacon fat.

She would add some chopped onion to brown in the skillet too.

Then add the chopped bacon or ham.

In a bowl she’d scramble up some eggs with  splash of milk. Mix, mix, mix.

Pour into this same skillet and let cook for a minute. she would gently reach under with a spatula, lifting the potatoes and meat and stuff, flipping it over to let the eggs cook. Add some salt and pepper. Mix and flip until the eggs are set the way we liked them, then topped it all with grated cheese.

You might serve this with fruit, bagels, cinnamon toast or more bacon. Have fun and you may find yourself making your own memories.

What was I doing during all this? Oh, maybe out feeding the bluejays peanuts with one of the kids. The grandma that lived at the cabins would leave out lots of peanuts for them or the squirrels, whichever got there  fastest.

Or I might be enjoying some quiet time reading a book in bed, smelling all those nummy smells and briefly reverting back to my childhood of not having responsibilities (or knowing how to cook).

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