I cannot advance in the culinary arts. They are the perfect combination of complexity and tedium, and there are way too many rules of tradition. So I basically use elements of things I like, regardless their lack of complementary association, mix them up, and cook them however is handy.

In the case illustrated, fluffy flour tortilla, gooey white American cheese, fried eggs with gelled yoke, and fried and crunchy deli dogs. Dijon mustard applied liberally, but not shown. Rolled and folded burrito style, I have to admit is was a taste sensation. Probably could have used a dash of hot sauce… maybe another slice of cheese. Scrambled instead of fried. Bacon? All weighty possibilities.

Geared up and waiting

I finally got all of the snow removal equipment sorted and gassed up, just before a forecast of overnight snow fall to the tune of five inches. I looked forward to the sound and smell of a hard running diesel and heavy stream of thrown snow. What I anticipate to be the first of many such days.

(Update) I woke up at 2:30 AM, switched on the upstairs backyard floods and was greeted with a snow covered roof and a steady diagonal downfall of wet heavy snow. It had stopped when I checked at 6 AM, but the roof was still heavily carpeted. Uniform of the day became: long Johns, jeans, snow pants, hooded sweatshirt, and parka. Think woolen socks and insulated rubber bog boots. Refrigerator mittens and a balaclava were stuffed into my coat pockets, and a rain poncho covered all.

Ran downstairs and went into the garage. Hopped on Sparky, hit ignition and the garage door remote. The door opened to clear blacktop all the way to the frontage road, with even the snow on the lawn melting away. The house looked like a snow mullet, clear in the front, lots in the back. So I took Sparky for a spin down the driveway to check the mail. Next time.