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Egg in a Nest

Always called a "birds nest" where I came from in New York State. It was one of the second things children learned to cook. The first was a bird's nest without the egg - take a piece of bread (don't rip out the center), butter it liberally on both sides, fry it - and call it "army toast." I haven't thought about a bird's nest in a long time - think I will have one tomorrow morning. Yumm.

Oct 09, 2007
Catinat in Recipes

Any C'Hound Baby Boomers?

Ah, yes. The Dugan Man. He always came on Saturday morning, so we would have coffee cake for breakfast before church. Gee, the coffee cake smelled good!

Others who came by were the milk man, the door-to-door peddler, the scissors and knife sharpening man, the vegetable truck man with his brown paper bags and scales, the dry cleaner man, the Good Humor man, the ice man, the Fuller Brush man, the mobile swing; and more.

The ice man was my favorite. He would open the doors to his truck where the ice was covered with black tarp, and the cold air would surge out. He had a huge pair of tongs that he would use to carry the ice up the stairs. When he came back, he would chop a piece of ice off for me, which always had little pieces of gravel embedded in it. I didn't care about the gravel; I just thought the ice really hit the spot on a hot summer day. I wonder what a kid today would say if you offered him a piece of dirty ice to suck on? The icebox had a tray under it to catch the water from the melting ice, and my mother would sometimes forget to empty it. Then you would hear my father carrying on early the next morning when he ventured into the kitchen in his stocking feet and stepped in a rivelet of water.

Also, the butcher in town would have your meat order delivered to the house.

Oct 08, 2007
Catinat in Not About Food