Grandma’s breakfast was pretty much always the same – a choice of two, one or the other not both. She might have plain Greek yoghurt with a mountain of fruit, nuts, seeds and honey. Her bowl always ended up more full than she intended and it would last her through out the day. More often she would have a fried egg on toast.
Grandma had a small frying pan, just big enough to take an egg. She would add Greek olive oil, a little, or however much came out of the bottle. Why Greek yoghurt and Greek olive oil? She just liked them best. As the pan heated it she would take her large pepper mill and grind rather a lot into the heating oil – not peppercorns, or not just peppercorns; this peppermill was full of whole spices, cardamom, star anise, coriander, nigella, clove, coriander – whatever she had went into the mill so no two mouthfuls ever tasted the same. The egg went in next with more spices and a pinch of salt and then she would cover it with her plate. She never had a full round of toast, but would cut off the bottom third. While the rest of the slice was toasting and she was waiting for her egg, sometimes she would eat the leftover bit.
It was touch and go whether the egg was perfect at the same time the toast was done. Grandma used olive oil rather than butter and then would slide the egg out of the pan onto the toast, and breakfast was ready. To make it perfect, and in another juggling act of timing, she made a cup of coffee, hot coffee, quite hot coffee. She was never bored with this, and if she did fancy a change, there was her yoghurt mountain.