Saturday Brunch

      After watching the Saturday morning cartoons and some serious catching-up on dishes (Thursday take-out, Friday "hopped-up chili" made with leftover Hoppin' John, three-quarters of a pound of ground chuck, a red onion, a can of chilis, a can of diced tomatoes, chili powder and this and that; it's neither one thing nor the other* but it's darned good), I settled down to turning out a bit of brunch in the big wok:

      Two "Irish Banger" sausages, squeezed from their casing, browned, crumbled and set aside.
      Two strips of applewood bacon, likewise; they needed to get used up before it was too late.
      About two cups of diced potatoes.  I found the remainder of a bag of multicolored fingerling potatoes, so we had red, white and purple-blue potatoes.  They got well-browned in the sausage and bacon fat.
      A half-dozen smallish green onions and three cherry tomatoes, chopped and sprinkled with "Italian blend" seasoning,

      Once the potatoes were nearly done, I poured the drained sausage over them, added all of the tomatoes and half of the onions, and tossed it around over medium heat until it was well warmed through before pushing it to the sides of the pan and scrambling a couple of eggs in the open space over high heat.  Once they were mostly done, I mixed it all back together, then added the rest of the onion and the crumbled bacon, and kept stirring it over medium-high heat until it was as dry as I wanted it.  All it needed then was a piparra pepper snipped over it and a little hot sauce.  (Tam and I have become fond of the little, skinny mild-hot peppers.)

* * *
      Recent reading reminded me that I had never read It Can't Happen Here.  I have set about remedying that lack and so far (which is not very), I am finding it readable and a bit dated; but it's a period of time you can still see from here if you climb up high enough and squint (late interwar years, well into the Great Depression and with the thunder of big guns almost audible).  It's almost-but-not-quite resonant with today, enough so that the differences can be jarring.
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* What?  You object to a few blackeyed peas, bell pepper and so on in your chili?  I'll fight over it!  Or maybe just call it "red stew" instead.  While I will readily admit to a weakness for complexity in my soups and stews, grocery prices are high and if I can stretch a meal over two days, better believe I will.