Eggs Dillingham

My father didn't really know how to cook, but he was responsible for two of my fondest childhood food memories. One was for a "recipe" he made for us on Sunday mornings called Tomato Surprise. We weren't allowed in the kitchen while he made it, not that it was all that hard to figure out. It was condensed cream of tomato soup made with heavy cream (may the saints preserve us!) and garnished with homemade, butter-fried croutons (may the saints preserve us again). Mmmmmmm.

The second dish was a breakfast concoction called Eggs Dillingham. To make Eggs Dillingham (named for a college buddy of my father's), you fried up two pieces of bacon, cut a hole in a slice of bread and centered the hole over the bacon in the pan. Then you cracked an egg into the hole and let the thing cook up into a wonderful egg-bacon sandwich glued together by the egg. In the meantime, the piece of bread that was cut out was also frying in the bacon fat. (Wait, where are those saints? I need them.)

We had this dish at home, but we also cooked it over many a campfire. The concept of Eggs Dillingham came in particularly handy when my family used to make an annual canoe pilgrimage to a small island in the middle of a Wisconsin lake. There we built a campfire and put a flat rock in the fire to heat up and serve as our "skillet." Once the rock was hot, we used the bacon to grease the rock, and then the bread with the hole torn out of it served to keep the egg from running off the rock.

I don't think I've ever had food that tasted as good as Eggs Dillingham on Scattering Rice Island.

The map above represents our canoe journey from Otter Lake to the island in Scattering Rice Lake.