When I was growing up, I thought our across-the-street neighbors, Wally and Leslie, were the most exciting, exotic people ever. They introduced me to the joys of tiny sausages tucked into crescent hot crescent rolls, the pleasure of sipping a frosty full-sugar soda while sitting in a hot tub and elaborate weekend morning breakfasts.

We had great breakfasts at my house too (matzo brei and waffles with ice cream were—and still are—my dad’s specialties), but classic American breakfasts were a totally foreign concept to me, until one morning when I was maybe 7 or 8 years old, and I found myself sitting at Wally and Leslie’s kitchen table, watching Wally make fluffy scrambled eggs, crispy bacon and a big frying pan full of diced potatoes, onions and sweet red peppers. He loaded up a plate for me, poured me a glass of fresh orange juice, and watched as I smiled with amazement.

I realized, then and there, why they call it the most important meal of the day.

Note: This version is made with sweet potatoes, which I like better than starchy potatoes, but feel free to go with Russets or Yukon Golds if you prefer.