Because I had to give blood at a frankly stupid hour of the morning, afterward I took ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spatch to Mike & Patty's. He likes breakfast sandwiches and my mother had heard a rave of theirs on the radio. I do not like breakfast sandwiches. It's mostly because I don't like fried eggs, or even scrambled eggs unless I make them myself. Mei Mei got around my aversion by wrapping their oozily fried eggs in scallion pancakes and pesto, but for years the Double Awesome was alone of its kind and I tended to order its ham-based cousin, the Porco Rosso, when I could. I am still not designed for the majority of American breakfast foods, but it turns out that if the egg is fried hard enough and layered into a Reuben-adjacent mound of pastrami, cheddar, and a slightly mustardier relative of fry sauce on a griddled English muffin, it does count as real food by me. Rob reports favorably on the slyly named McLustin', which did not obliterate its traditional stack of fried egg, bacon, American cheese, and hash brown with its tongue-nipping sriracha ketchup. We ate while watching a swan chase a Canada goose across a reservoir like a majestically petty pocket battleship. The latest episode of Widow's Bay (2026–) scored its local points with a background issue of Agni such as fetch up secondhand anywhere within reading distance of Boston University. I have several such issues myself.
spatch to Mike & Patty's. He likes breakfast sandwiches and my mother had heard a rave of theirs on the radio. I do not like breakfast sandwiches. It's mostly because I don't like fried eggs, or even scrambled eggs unless I make them myself. Mei Mei got around my aversion by wrapping their oozily fried eggs in scallion pancakes and pesto, but for years the Double Awesome was alone of its kind and I tended to order its ham-based cousin, the Porco Rosso, when I could. I am still not designed for the majority of American breakfast foods, but it turns out that if the egg is fried hard enough and layered into a Reuben-adjacent mound of pastrami, cheddar, and a slightly mustardier relative of fry sauce on a griddled English muffin, it does count as real food by me. Rob reports favorably on the slyly named McLustin', which did not obliterate its traditional stack of fried egg, bacon, American cheese, and hash brown with its tongue-nipping sriracha ketchup. We ate while watching a swan chase a Canada goose across a reservoir like a majestically petty pocket battleship. The latest episode of Widow's Bay (2026–) scored its local points with a background issue of Agni such as fetch up secondhand anywhere within reading distance of Boston University. I have several such issues myself.
