Clay started football practice on Monday. Two-a-days — morning practice at seven, afternoon practice at three, with a break in between that he spends sleeping on the couch like a grizzly bear in hibernation. Varsity tryouts are next week. He's nervous. He won't say he's nervous because Hensley men don't say they're nervous, but he's eating more than usual, which is his tell. When Clay is anxious, he eats. When he's happy, he eats. When he's sad, he eats. The boy has one coping mechanism and it's caloric.
I remember football in Evarts. Class A — the smallest classification in Kentucky — and our field didn't have lights until 1982, so for my first two years, all games were on Saturday afternoons. The field was in a valley between two mountains, and by four o'clock the shadows would come down the eastern mountain and cover the end zone and you'd be running a play in twilight while the other end of the field was still in sun. It was surreal. It was beautiful. Nobody came to football games in Evarts because they loved football. They came because there was nothing else to do on a Saturday in Harlan County, and because the cheerleaders sold hot dogs at halftime, and because watching boys hit each other was the county's oldest form of entertainment after moonshine.
For Clay's first day of two-a-days, I made a breakfast that would last: biscuits and gravy. This is the foundation of Southern breakfast, the meal that built every coal miner and farmer and football player in Kentucky. The biscuits I've talked about — Betty's buttermilk biscuits, the ones I'm getting closer to but haven't matched yet. The gravy is sausage gravy: brown a pound of breakfast sausage in a skillet, breaking it up as it cooks. When it's done, don't drain the grease — the grease is the foundation. Sprinkle in three or four tablespoons of flour and stir until the flour absorbs the grease and starts to cook, about two minutes. Then pour in two cups of whole milk, slowly, stirring constantly, and cook until it thickens. Salt, pepper — a lot of pepper, more than you think. The gravy should be thick enough to coat a spoon but thin enough to pour.
Split the biscuits, ladle the gravy over them, and eat. That's it. That's breakfast. In Evarts, Earl ate biscuits and gravy every morning before the mines. Betty would have them on the table by five AM. Earl would eat three biscuits, drink two cups of coffee, put on his hard hat, and walk out the door, and I'd watch him from the kitchen window as he disappeared into the mountain. Every morning. Thirty-four years. Three biscuits and two cups of coffee and then into the dark.
Clay ate four biscuits with gravy and a side of eggs and three glasses of orange juice. He looked at me and said "These are good." I said "They should be. Your grandma made these for your grandpa every morning for thirty years." He nodded. He doesn't fully understand yet what that means — the weight of a woman waking up at four-thirty to feed a man before the mines. He'll understand someday. Or he won't. Either way, the biscuits are good and the gravy is hot and my son is walking out the door to something that isn't a coal mine, and that's enough. That's more than enough.
The biscuits and gravy were the heart of that morning, but no plate Clay Hensley clears is ever just one thing — the boy ate four biscuits, a pile of eggs, and three glasses of orange juice before he walked out the door. Those eggs deserve their own moment. A well-made omelette is fast, it’s filling, and it holds its own alongside even the most storied gravy in Harlan County. If you’re sending someone you love out to something hard, you put eggs on the plate. That’s just what you do.
Omelette Recipe
Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 5 minutes | Total Time: 10 minutes | Servings: 1
Ingredients
- 3 large eggs
- 2 tablespoons whole milk
- 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
- 1 tablespoon unsalted butter
- 1/4 cup shredded cheddar cheese
- Optional fillings: 2 tablespoons diced onion, 2 tablespoons diced bell pepper, 2 tablespoons cooked crumbled sausage
Instructions
- Beat the eggs. Crack 3 eggs into a small bowl. Add the milk, salt, and pepper. Whisk briskly until the yolks and whites are fully combined and the mixture is slightly frothy, about 30 seconds.
- Heat the pan. Set an 8-inch nonstick or cast iron skillet over medium heat. Add the butter and let it melt, swirling to coat the bottom and sides. When the butter foams and the foam begins to subside, the pan is ready.
- Add the eggs. Pour in the egg mixture. Let it sit undisturbed for 15–20 seconds until the edges just begin to set. Using a rubber spatula, gently push the cooked edges toward the center while tilting the pan so the uncooked egg flows to the edges. Repeat around the pan until the top is just barely set and still looks slightly glossy.
- Add fillings. Scatter the shredded cheddar and any optional fillings evenly over one half of the omelette.
- Fold and serve. Slide the spatula under the unfilled half and fold it over the filled half. Tilt the pan and gently slide the omelette onto a warm plate. Serve immediately alongside biscuits and gravy, or on its own with buttered toast.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 340 | Protein: 22g | Fat: 26g | Carbs: 2g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 520mg