Throwback of the House: Dad's Denver Nightmare Brunch


  • Todd Ehlers, Wikimedia Commons
My dad's the guy who nuked some bologna for ten minutes back in the day. He's not much of a cook, but now that he's retired, he's starting to find his way around the kitchen. He can make apple pie and jalapenos stuffed with cream cheese and wrapped in bacon.

I'm proud of his progress, and if I could be with him on Father's Day, I would reward him by relieving him of is kitchen duties for brunch.

I found the perfect recipe in Better Homes & Gardens' 1971 edition of Cooking with Cheese: Dad's Denvers.

This is not cat food. Unfortunately. - ROBIN WHEELER
  • Robin Wheeler
  • This is not cat food. Unfortunately.
Take a French roll and spread with deviled ham. If you have a really good relationship with your dad, substitute canned cat food, which is made with higher-quality meat than Satan's pork-meat product. Cook a green onion omelet in bacon fat and place atop the Devil Chow. Top with tomato and broil.

Do not serve to dads with heart conditions. The sodium and fat in the deviled ham alone (480 mg and 15 g, respectively) are enough to make a cardiac valve stint a little shaky. The egg, cheese and bacon fat will slam that sucker shut, making it the last Father's Day you'll be celebrating.

Things with nothing to do with Denver that might leave you dead. - ROBIN WHEELER
  • Robin Wheeler
  • Things with nothing to do with Denver that might leave you dead.
Even if your dad's in excellent health, the deviled ham will ruin it, at least psychologically. Its fine-grained texture, combined with greasy eggs, cheese and slimy tomatoes, creates a familiar mouth feel -- vomit.

Another Throwback first: I couldn't even swallow a bite. I gagged it into the trash.

And what's with this "Denver" business? Green onions do not a Denver omelet make. Peppers would make this dish far too unmanly but might provide enough fiber to keep the cholesterol chugging through Pa's beleaguered vascular system. Unless your dad destroyed your family by carrying on with a whore in the Mile-High City, there is no reason to associate this dish with an otherwise fine city.

Because I love my dad, I will not be making this for him. I'll nuke some bologna and call it good. By comparison, it is.

Robin Wheeler writes the blog Poppy Mom. After years of making and eating fancy food, Robin is sick of it all. She's returning to the basics: recipes that haven't surfaced in three decades. She reports on the results for Gut Check every Tuesday.

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