- Bryant’s breakfast
Yesterday morning I ate something I really shouldn’t have eaten. It was a kind of gravy-slathered meal in a bowl. It was layers of perfect biscuit, fluffy eggs, creamy white gravy, and spicy sausage piled in a bowl courtesy of Bryant’s on Summer Avenue, where I’d stopped to have pre-flight breakfast with an old friend who’d been visiting for the past week and was leaving for New York at noon. It was my second Bryant’s meal of the week, and it was revolting … it was also utterly delicious.
My friend, who lived in Memphis for years before moving to the Big City, decided that while he was here he’d throw all gastroenterological caution to the wind and eat his favorite Southern foods three times a day. That means I’ve also been eating his favorite Southern foods at least twice a day and while I will miss my old pal’s company, my arteries were awfully happy to see him finally board that northbound plane.
