Well, I did not do hardly anything I planned to do today, except go out to breakfast with My Darling B, and drink beer. So the day’s not a total loss.
We went to Eldorado Grill for breakfast, first time we’ve ever been. It’s one of those places we’ve driven past almost every day for the past five years and said, “We’ve really got to stop there one of these days.” So this morning we were trying to decide whether to try some place new or revisit a trusty old favorite, and while B was looking at restaurants on Willy Street, she recalled that Eldorado was at the top of our short list of the very next place we were going to visit. Okay, no it wasn’t, but only because we don’t actually have a list. We’re not nearly that organized. But if somehow we were, Eldorado would’ve been at the top of our list.
After close examination of the menu, I chose what I like to think of as a good old American breakfast: two eggs over easy, pan-fried potatoes, bacon, and buttered toast. It’s hard to screw that up, but it’s easy to do an excellent job of preparing that, which, I’m very satisfied to say, they did. I happily devoured the whole thing.
B saw something on the menu with biscuits & gravy and ordered it because biscuits & gravy is like an irresistible impulse with her, so they pretty much had her at hello. Then they brought the dish to the table and she nearly fainted. The biscuits turned out to be the size of hubcaps and there was enough gravy to lubricate every colon in Texas. Try as she might, B could not put so much as a dent in her breakfast, and she tried. She tried very hard.
The beer-drinking wasn’t part of a party or a festival, I just like drinking beer and, as it happens, we had some in the fridge. So I drank it.