A road trip isn’t complete without a truck stop breakfast, especially if there’s fried bologna!
I don’t see fried bologna on a lot of menus anymore, but when I do, I order it. I’ll run across it once in a blue moon, usually at a truck stop diner, and not a fancy-pants truck stop, either–it’ll likely be a run-down-looking outfit that cares more about good food and good service than looking shiny and new; some place that’s been around for a loooong time and hasn’t quite gotten around to whacking fried bologna off the menu. And I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. I know bologna is not the best thing for my health, I have no doubts about that. Bologna is what? –lips and assholes? Something like that. But it’s also a touchstone, something there carries me back to being a kid when we used to have bologna in the fridge all the time. More often than not, the bologna found it’s way between two slices of Wonder Bread with too much mayonnaise, but sometimes it showed up fried on the breakfast table, and sometimes it showed up curled up on a piece of toast. I liked it then and I love it now. I don’t eat fried bolonga too often (or any bologna) and rarely see it offered on a menu, but it’s hard to resist when I do, for better or worse.
Follow this link to see the kind of food I grew up with–Down Home Southern Cooking.
