This brings back childhood memories. For a little while when I was probably in fifth grade, my Dad would take my brother and me to this downtown cafe before picking up my Mom from work in the evening, especially when she was prone to running late. The cafe made this dish that didn't belong to any particular legitimate cuisine that i knew of. And the ingredients couldn't be simpler: stringy onion and sliced-up hotdog, pan-fried and served with a ketchup-based sauce. But it was delicious. I recall those evenings fondly.
In my 20's I recreated this dish, deciding that the sauce consisted of ketchup, Worcestershire and Tabasco. It turned out to be one of the few things I made that my XH was actually pleased with.
Last Sunday morning, probably after a decade and a half, the craving crept in. The desire turned into unrest. I
had to have it.
I added scrambled eggs this time.
The magical flavors were just as i remembered them.
The magical flavors were just as i remembered them.
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