Breakfast is the finest meal of the day. It’s a partly cloudy Sunday morning and I’m cooking hashbrowns, toast and scrambled eggs for the demons. J is in Arizona and it’s just the three of us. The birds are chirping through open windows and all is well with the world (well, inside these walls anyway). I always think of my friend Laura when I make hashbrowns. How she always ordered them well-done when we all went out to breakfast in Seattle. I strive to cook hashbrowns that would satisfy Laura. The Coastal Kitchen certainly never could.

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