Breakfast special more than just eggs and toast

I miss the breakfast special.

There was only one for me. Not pancakes, not omelets, just two eggs over easy, fried potatoes, toast and a side of bacon. A bottle of ketchup at hand. On the side, coffee, always hot, and more often than not spilled on delivery into the saucer.

The special is still there, calling my name most mornings. But like so many others around me, my one sacrifice to health and age has been a breakfast that's more about whole grains and fruits. It's virtuous, and some days I do enjoy it.

But it's not a joy. Not the same as a door opening to a breakfast joint's blast of smells and sounds.

Hot and fast, no time to waste. The aromas of salty potatoes, melting butter on toast, the unmistakable, ineffable porkiness of the bacon, all of it unceremoniously slid onto the worn formica of a truck stop or a diner.

The bustle while you eat outcharms any delicate eatery. A crowd going every which way, here a landscaping crew already stained with dirt, there a lady with a PDA and a suit off to work, at the counter a trucker looking like he worked the night shift. The place buzzes with the shouting of the orders and the radio and the chitchat of the regulars.

Turning food into words is always a bit of a parlor trick, but somehow that egg breakfast is even trickier. But special is the operative word.

In the culinary contest between your taste buds and your mind -- between what the meal tastes like this very moment and what it brings back from all the times you've eaten this very same meal in years past -- the breakfast special comes out a draw.

The be-here-now wondrousness is hard to beat. Toast alone I could write an entire column about (rye vs. wheat, bagels or English muffins, butter or jam or even both together). Eggs! And I'm only exaggerating slightly when I acknowledge preserved pork as one of the high points of civilization, and it becomes near-religious when you get to the breakfast trinity of bacon, sausage and ham. And don't get me started on fried potatoes.

But the memories are no slouch.

I didn't start out with any appreciation of the virtues of my breakfast special -- No. 2 out of 10 offerings on the diner around the corner from my house -- until I was nearly out of high school. Before then, I'd been a kid drawn to pancakes, or french toast.

The special came as a combo package with skipping class. Me and one marginally bad influence would light out after homeroom and run down the hill toward a diner (Greek, I believe) and join a table full of other kids. It was as much about laughing and goofing around as eating. But the eating was good, too.

The years brought other breakfast specials, during summer jobs house-painting or driving a cab, on rough weekend mornings, others breaking up long road trips. Down South, grits replaced the hash browns, and sometimes you could get a side of red-eye gravy. The essentials were, yes, unchangeable.

Something about specials mean talking and jokes and arguments. It might be the convivial nature of a booth at a diner, but not only. A special eaten solo has its own charm, too. Reading the paper, listening in on a conversation, chatting with the waitress -- it's a meal that brings its own magic.

Now I started out this morning giving myself the green light to break my usual routine. And the diner was just as crowded as I remember, just as enticing, the eggs just as greasy and satisfying. (I did spy a few customers with bowls of oatmeal instead of plates of eggs).

It's nice to know that some things haven't changed. I still miss the special, but at least it's there, waiting for me.

• Robert Tanner has eaten his way around the world as a national writer for The Associated Press.

Cape Cod Cranberry Muffins

5 ounces (1¼ cups) fresh or frozen cranberries

2¼ cups all-purpose flour

1½ teaspoons baking powder

½ teaspoon baking soda

½ teaspoon salt

3 tablespoons unsalted butter

3 tablespoons canola oil

¾ cup sugar

2 large eggs, lightly beaten

¿ cup orange juice

¾ cup coarsely chopped toasted walnuts

Position racks in the upper and lower thirds of the oven. Heat oven to 375 degrees. Line 14 muffin cups with paper or foil cupcake liners.

Place the cranberries in a food processor and pulse until coarsely chopped. Set aside.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Set aside.

In a small saucepan, combine the butter and oil and heat until the butter melts. Stir in the sugar; it will not dissolve.

In a large bowl, use a wooden spoon to stir together the eggs and orange juice. Stir in the sugar-butter mixture, then add the dry ingredients and mix until just moistened. When the flour is almost incorporated, stir in the cranberries and walnuts.

Fill the muffin cups until almost full with batter, about ¼ cup each. Bake 18-20 minutes, one pan on each shelf. Halfway through baking, rotate the pans front to back and switch them from one shelf to the other. Bake until the muffins are golden brown and the tops are springy to the touch. Cool on a wire rack.

Serves 14.

"Great Coffee Cakes, Sticky Buns, Muffins & More" by Carole Walter

(2007 Clarkson Potter, $35)