The BECT

Our tomatoes have taken off.

We have possibly our best crop ever.

Mistah Schleckah took one look at those tomatoes the other day and uttered the words only a man as wise as he could utter:

"We need to make BLTs."

Tomatoes? Check.

Bacon? We walked to the corner market and bought a pound. Which Mistah cooked outside on the side burner of the gorgeous gas grill we found free on the side of the road. But that's a story for a different day.

Bread?

Well, Mistah told me we needed to buy white bread. I said, "I'm sorry. I can't buy white bread."

Instead, I bought a "Mini French Boule." (Mistah says "Mini French Boule" is French for "white bread.")

And the last ingredient? The L of the BLT?

Fail.

Okay, then! Let's improvise!

We toasted the white bread Mini French Boule . . .

. . . we chilled the bubbly . . .

. . . we sliced the Prize-Winnah from our garden . . .

. . . and we cooked a couple of home-grown eggs. Thanks, Julie B-H!

And do you know what else we bought, on our successful walk to the corner market?

American cheese.

That's right, my friends. Fromage Américain.

A little eggie here . . .

. . . a little tomato there . . .

. . . a little bacon everywhere . . .

. . . and voilà.

The BECT. Who needs L when you have E and C?

But wait, what's this?

Oooh, Mistah snuck in a secret, open faced BCT.

How'd you like the BCT, Mistah?

Oh yeah.

But for me, it's all about the BECT. It's breakfast, it's lunch, it's summer, it's fresh, it's delicious . . .

. . . it's perfection.