Hungover breakfast

Friday night was leaving drinks for a colleague (Lucy, Mummy of the Baby With The Cutest Cheeks In The WorldTM, and involved much red wine and not enough food. Crisps do not maketh a dinner, and the less said about the midnight assault on Burger King the better.

I awoke on Saturday morning a wee bit hungover. And knowing we had almost no breakfasty food in the flat, I started checking the London Review of Breakfasts for Crouch End eateries. Ah yes – Crouch End. Forgot to say, we’ve moved, albeit temporarily. It’s grim up north London has the full story on that score. The house renovations have prompted a bit of an economy drive in the R-FT household, so breakfast out was out, and the fridge duly raided in the hope of satisfying my rumbling stomach.

The veg box yielded a few potatoes, the fridge a little tub of homemade tomato sauce, and a box of eggs. Necessity is the mother of invention: lo, I give you a bastardised huervos rancheros.

I grated two medium potatoes (skins on, I needed the vitamins) and mixed through an egg yolk (white reserved for extra protein later), about half a tablespoon of plain flour and salt and pepper. Once it was all well mixed through I formed it into four rough balls, flattened them slightly and popped them into a hot frying pan with a little bit of corn oil. They cooked for about 5 minutes each side, and were placed to one side.

Flip over….let them go crunchy on second side.

Next, four eggs fried, over easy, two at a time, with the extra white thrown in for good measure. I broke one egg yolk as I flipped them, I always do.

Lastly, the tomato sauce got an extra sprinkling of chilli flakes, then was zapped in the microwave to heat through, and the whole lot hastily assembled: potato cakes, eggs, tomato sauce. Not the most elegant of dishes, but exactly what the doctor ordered.

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