In Which I Make A Mean Breakfast

As what often happens around here when both The Boss and I lack the desire to make anything else, we had breakfast for dinner the other night. The particular meal we had goes by a few different names, with The Boss calling it "Egg In A Hole", and I grew up calling it "Toad In A Hole". Whatever you may call it, it's a slice of grilled toast with the center cut out of it, and you cook an egg in the middle. It's easy enough to make and it's pretty tasty, so it wins major points in my book. It's not fancy or gourmet by any stretch of the word, but that's alright with me.

That night, I was in charge of the griddle and thus the turning of the egg/toast combo when they were done cooking on one side. I don't normally get entrusted to do such things because The Boss has major control issues whenever it comes to someone else cooking in the kitchen, but there I was nonetheless. I was reveling in all the control I had, all the power I had!... and then The Boss reminded me to flip 'em already because it smelled like they were burning.

The Boss' portion had cooked to her liking, so I removed her two slices of Egg-In-A-Hole from the griddle. I flipped mine one last time to make sure it was completely cooked (I very much dislike runny eggs), and this is what I saw:

I guess I make a mean breakfast.

Literally.