I have a vague memory of having been served an egg-in-the-hole when I was very young.  It was not a meal I repeated often if at all.  However my interest in the subject was particularly excited later in life after I saw the movie “Moonstruck” with Cher and Nicolas Cage.  It was Olympia Dukakis (who portrayed the crusty Italian mother in the film) who was preparing an egg-in-the-hole in a now famous breakfast scene.  There was something compelling about watching a classy Italian woman casually preparing a solitary and unique breakfast for herself while engaging her daughter in an important conversation.  She may have added red peppers out of a jar to the meal.

For most of my life I taken my breakfast out of the house.  When I was at boarding school we naturally went to the Great Hall every morning.  During my working career I religiously attended the Superior Restaurant every morning exactly at 8:30 a.m. There I sat (until I had my open-heart surgery) for thirty-two years in the same booth in the same place usually with same five other guys and I always had the identical breakfast (two fried eggs, bacon, whole wheat toast and peanut butter).  So you can see that egg-in-the-hole was neither topical nor especially popular.

Last year we visited Sardinia where we nestled in a villa atop a mountain overlooking the Mediterranean.  Because we were so remote (at least beyond easy walking distance from any café) we cultivated the habit of making our own breakfast.  Very early in our stay I discovered that I could fry large slices of Italian bread with local olive oil, sea salt and butter in pan with an egg in a hole of the bread slice. Immediately outside the door of the kitchen was a Rosemary bush from which I plucked shards of the fragrant herb and liberally sprinkled them over the olive oil soaked fried bread.  Perfection!  The cool morning air which wafted over the stone kitchen floor heightened the early morning smells and magically blended with the distant sea and blazing sunshine.  I believe the recollection of that matutinal ceremony constitutes one of my fondest memories of Sardinia.