Friday, May 29, 2009

The Admiral's Daughter's Breakfast

My Dad was a naval officer. He was also the son of a naval officer, brother of two naval officers (one male, one female), father, uncle and great-uncle of naval officers. Our family has sea water in our veins. When my Dad was chosen for the rank of admiral, however, both his daughters wailed, "But, Daddy, we don't want to be admiral's daughters!"

You see, in the Navy, admiral's children are known to be smarmy little brats, spoiled from birth and impossible to like. All our lives, as we rode the bus to school, the various admiral's kids were recognized and reviled. My mother recalls me coming home from school one day to complain
with 7 year old scorn about one admiral's son, "Felix Stump is the baddest boy on the bus!" We foresaw similar opinions about ourselves.

Too badski, he chose to accept the rank over our vociferous protests, and along with it came a new member of our family, a steward. His name is Benjamin Banks. He had joined the Navy as a very young man - when we first knew him, he couldn't have been more than 19 or 20 years old. Stewards in the Navy are cooks; my mother was in heaven! Once she taught him how to make her favorite recipes, she sat back and enjoyed every minute of not having to cook for our family of ravenous appetites.

He invented my favorite form of scrambled eggs, which he called "smashed eggs," and would make them for me almost every morning, back before eggs and bacon were considered dangerous substances. Simplicity itself, smashed eggs are softly scrambled with little bits of crispy bacon thrown in during the cooking. There is something about the salty, smoky bits enrobed in moist egg that simply can't be beat - the whole is even better than its excellent parts. If I have any leftover bacon, I'm very likely to make smashed eggs with it. Sadly, Chief Banks lives in Richmond, Virginia rather than Richmond, California, so he's not here to make it for me as he did for so many mornings, back when I was a spoiled brat of an admiral's daughter.

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Blogger Greg said...

sitting here eating boring old food and wishing for some smashed eggs.

Friday, May 29, 2009  
Blogger cookiecrumb said...

I don't know if yours look like Benjamin's, but they are beautiful!
(I've got a great admiral's daughter story -- or two -- for ya. I guess I'm lucky my dad only made it to Captain.)

Friday, May 29, 2009  
Blogger namastenancy said...

Well, well, well...I didn't know you were an admiral's daughter. As the daughter of a lowly commander, I now can look down my nose at you! Neiner, neiner, neiner. But I really don't have room to point fingers. Since my dad was stationed overseas, we often had our own version of Chief Banks. When we lived in Turkey, my dad had an aide de camp assigned to him. In Turkish, they are called "oscars, " but his real name was Kemal and he was the one who first taught me to cook. He would make bread and home made yogurt, coddled eggs with feta cheese and more delicious dishes than I have space to write about. Then, there was Zita in Naples whose deep fried zucchini I still dream about.
Champagne wishes, Navy dreams!

Friday, May 29, 2009  
Anonymous foodcreate said...

Beautiful! I love your story.
Thanks for sharing:)

And You can visit me if I can visit you:)


Friday, May 29, 2009  
Blogger dancingmorganmouse said...

My dad only made Chief PO, he does make nice scrambos though, if he decides you deserve it. (& Mr Brown always does, it seems).

Friday, May 29, 2009  
Blogger Zoomie said...

Greg, I often wish for them when I don't have the makings, too.

Cookiecrumb, can't wait to hear your admiral's daughters stories.

Nancy, Navy life did have its compensations, didn't it?

Foodcreate, your site appears to require registration; maybe later...

Morgan, Benjamin Banks was a Chief, too, the admiral of the enlisted guys. I never knew a better man - nor had better eggs. :-)

Saturday, May 30, 2009  

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