I don’t remember when the obsession began — like the slow burn of a horror story, it crept in quietly. One morning it was a fast-food Egg McMuffin, and the next, I was in the neon-lit underworld of New York City bodegas, swapping sleep for bacon, soft scrambled eggs, and melty cheese. That combo? It never leaves you. Not really. Years later, it’s still the voice whispering from the shadows: Eat me. I’m still here.
And here, in Tampa Bay, I’ve found myself again tangled in the web of breakfast sandwiches. But these aren’t just meals. These are small, greasy miracles that hold your soul together when the world is crumbling. Whether it’s on a brioche bun, a biscuit, or a croissant, one thing remains: it has to be delicious.
Login to view the full content (Free)
Support Tampa Latest by subscribing— We promise no spam!