First of all, it's so dry here that I can feel new wrinkles digging into my face as we speak.
Second, I would eat breakfasts like this every day, and I would be big as a house. This morning at the Pantry in Santa Fe - a local spot with the friendliest waitstaff ever - I polished off a trencher of huevos rancheros with scrambled eggs, green chile and cheese, along with potatoes, pinto beans, and tortillas. And for good measure, I ordered a sopaipilla, because I love fried dough, and because it's served with a squeeze bottle of honey.
I can barely move.
A southwestern breakfast is a thing of artery-hardening beauty and I envy your every bite.
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