It's ham, cheese, onions and green peppers-hold the nonsense-stuffed into a three-egg pillowcase; presented alongside a nest of crispy, lush, hash-brown potatoes and two slices of sourdough toast; and gobbled down between a couple of cups of coffee. It's nothing fancy, which means it fits right in at this converted Taco Bell with decals of the Fat Boy-a too-close-for-comfort cousin of the late Big Boy-plastered across the table at every booth.
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As an omelet or embryo, scrambled or over easy, inside a breakfast burrito or part of the batter, it doesn't matter—eggs are . . . go ahead, start the terrible puns: eggs-cellent. Eggs-traordinary. An egg-nigma. Egg . . . ah, ...