Sammy’s Savory Breakfast Bake

Sammy’s Savory Breakfast Bake

Sammy Shepherd was thinking of the delicious aromas of food at the Silver Dollar City theme park. She was always tempted by the smell of their savory baked goods. To meet that temptation she knew exactly what she would make for her own little lunch that day. She cranked the oven to 375°F, its familiar hum filling the cozy kitchen, where a wand rested beside a stack of mismatched mugs and a deck of cards lay scattered on the counter. Sammy popped open a can of Pillsbury crescent rolls, the sound reminded her of Christmas crackers and she was always slightly surprised at the lack of confetti when the can burst open.

Sammy pressed the perforated dough onto a sheet tray, her fingers nimbly thumbing up the edges to form a rustic crust, the buttery scent already promising comfort. In a bowl, she cracked two eggs, whisking them with a rhythmic clink, her mind drifting to the park’s bustling midway, where kettle corn popped and fiddles sang. To the eggs, she tossed in a generous handful of shredded cheddar and mozzarella, their creamy tang waking her senses, then a scoop of cottage cheese for extra richness.

Chopped sweet peppers, red and yellow, fresh from the Branson farmer’s market, added a pop of color, their crisp bite balanced by the zesty tang of pickled onions. A scattering of diced ham and pepperoni followed, each piece a savory nod to Ozark home cooking. She poured the thick, golden mixture over the dough, spreading it evenly, then dusted it with a shake of Parmesan from a jar and a flourish of chopped rosemary, its piney aroma curling through the air like a spell.

As the egg-bake bubbled in the oven, filling her farmhouse with a warm, golden glow, Sammy leaned against the counter, sipping coffee from a mug featuring the phrase “Let’s Get Cozy” with a curled up cat to illustrate the point. Outside, Table Rock Lake shimmered, its ripples catching the morning light, and a cardinal flitted past, a scarlet streak against the autumn foliage. The oven dinged, and she pulled out the tray, the crust golden and puffed, the top a melty mosaic of cheese and herbs. She rested it on a cooling rack while she rummaged through her bento box collection.

She found her cutest bento and began to fill the smaller sections with the rest of the sides and accoutrements for her main entree. After carefully prepping the box, Sammy cut a generous wedge from the cooled savory breakfast bake and slipped it lovingly into the main section at the bottom of the bento.

She packed the bento into her park bag, clipping her Silver Dollar City souvenir cup, a sturdy tumbler with a faded rollercoaster logo, to the outer strap. The leftovers, tucked in the fridge, promised another cozy meal later, a small gift to her future, tired self. She tugged on a flannel jacket, the autumn breeze whispering through the open door, and stepped out, the crunch of gravel under her boots echoing her excitement. Silver Dollar City waited, its magic calling her as surely as the Ozark hills, and Sammy was looking forward to a full day of sunshine and fresh air, and possibly a thrill ride or two.