Being sick is a bummer. Being well is better, if you have the choice. We at Dirtbag Central acknowledge that, on occasion, concessions must be made to allow for the intrusion of "vitamins," and that an all-Dorito diet may lead to "bone density loss" or "scurvy." Fine. Taking care of yourself is one of those necessary things like laundry or dishes that all adults must eventually make room in their lives for in some form or another. Usually when you, say, discover yourself with one of those low-level might-be-a-cold-hopefully-not-the-flu in the gloomy fays of late February. IDK.
I want to tell you about breakfast nachos because I want you to be happy. There's so little to cheer about these days, or at least it can feel that way, so sharing this bit of my soul with you feels like a moral duty.
Let me be perfectly clear, by "pizza French toast" I do not, as one might assume, refer to French toast made with pizza flavorings. While I’m sure it would be a lovely morning project to soak a piece of slightly stale, hearty Italian bread in a custard enriched with garlic and oregano and fry it up in olive oil, then top with your favorite pie toppings, and hit it under a broiler, this is not what we are discussing.