I have written about Montana breakfast before. It is a taste experience. I was an early adopter in the Montana breakfast movement. One bite and you’re hooked. A quick refresher: home-fried potatoes cooked in a cast iron skillet with paprika (the world’s luckiest spice), black pepper, garlic powder, cumin, and a few other spices—whatever the pantry inspires. These home fries are cooked with peppers, onions, ham, bacon, and bacon fat, and topped with poached eggs crowned with American cheese. The skillet is baked to melt the cheese, and then the carnage begins. This is certainly breakfast or a lunch or late-night fuel for a few inebriated individuals. But there is more. People remember Montana breakfast, the iron skillet, the people who shared in the experience. I mention this point because some twenty years later, someone who had Montana breakfast at a birthday of mine used Google search to find a recipe for Montana breakfast. Yes, the breakfast from yesteryear. Well, he found us over hill and dale. It seems funny that a breakfast can have that sort of impact. Though, until you have tried the Montana breakfast, you just don’t get it. So, dust off the skillet and share the experience.
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