Eggs Over Easy

When I travel I like to eat. Who doesn't?  But when I drive long stretches I eat light because I hate feeling lethargic and heavy when I still have miles yet to go. When I travel I also do my utmost to only eat at locally owned, non-chain establishments.  It's one of the Rules of the Road. I refuse to look back on this adventure and be able to rate the quality of dishes served in chain restaurants; what a colossal waste of time and opportunity that would be. There is always the chance that the local eatery, sometimes the only eatery to be found, is a bit questionable. Fortunately no one can ruin a grilled cheese and cup of chicken noodle soup- at least no one has yet. William Least Heat-Moon has a theory that the more wall calendars a diner has hanging up the better the food. I haven’t seen a lot of wall calendars yet. I don’t think this is a commentary on the food but rather the declining use of wall calendars in general. It’s a shame for it seems he has a pretty surefire grading system figured out. So far my method of picking a place to eat is based on the number of cars parked outside. Lots of cars must mean good food- I hope!

Ever since reading the review of Kate Christensen’s forthcoming book, Blue Plate Special: An Autobiography of my Appetites in Bookforum magazine I have been a little obsessed with eggs over easy- another safe bet on any menu. Kate prefers her eggs soft boiled.  I prefer mine over easy. She reminds me why this pedestrian dish of the most basic ingredients is so gratifying. She writes, “Nothing is better for breakfast on a raw early morning that two eggs boiled for six or seven minutes, cut in half and spooned into a bowl and mixed with one piece of butter toast torn into pieces. The runny yoke soaks into the bread, the just-firm white is easy on the still-sleeping stomach, and the cozy, childlike pleasure of lapping the warm, buttery concoction from a bowl eases you into the day.”

The other day, when I should have been writing, I was out driving new roads. I have much to research and write already but the weather was perfect and I may be starting a part-time job soon so all I could think was, I cannot let this day go by without a drive. So I headed to the northern most point of the St. Marys Section of the Buckeye Trail. The trip started with a long trek up I-75 to get to my jumping off point. During the drive I spent a lot of time thinking about eggs over easy, buttery toast and if I would get lucky and find a place that served breakfast all day.

Breaking trail I drove around Grand Lake St Mary stopping from time-to-time to get a better view of the lake and boats. It surprised me how lonely the drive was. I had anticipated lots of boats out on the lake, kayakers, kids swimming at the beaches, gulls begging for food and fisherman dotting the docks and jetties. There were plenty of gulls and geese, but that was it. The lake was vacant with the exception of one lone sail boat. I enjoy traveling on my own but this was too solitary. There was something a bit unsettling being the only one about the lake on such a perfect day. I needed some comfort food, I needed eggs over easy.

As luck would have it the Pullman Bay Restaurant in Celina was open, had a full lot and it was obviously the restaurant of choice of the locals.

“May I still get breakfast?”

“Of course hun, whad'ya have?”

This was one of the few times I didn't mind being called hun by a girl half my age because she was getting me eggs over easy with toast.

With the local newspaper unfolded before me, a view of the lake and the chatter of gray-haired ladies quietly filling the room, I let the warm, buttery goodness of my eggs and toast sooth me and bring me back to center. You can never feel this relaxed, this content in a chain restaurant. Never. 

The view from the Pullman Bay Restaurant