Click here to jump to recipe. Otherwise, notice the tippy milk crates stacked two-high under your five-year-old feet, the white chef’s apron knotted behind your neck, draping down past your shoes, between you and the oven door of the ten-burner stove in your grandfather’s diner, the two flats of eggs, thirty to a flat, ready for you and the egg and parsley fritters you’ll sneak pieces of later under your grandfather’s approving wink, those back burners turned off so the eggs don’t o...
