All posts filed under: Eggs

Egg Smash, and Linguine Carbonara

  Since we’re still coping with the effects of the egg accident, we still have 3 or so eggs worth of liquid in the container… and I was jonzing for some pasta… and cheese… and porky goodness –   So tonight it’s Linguine Carbonara. Yeah, yeah… I know “raw eggs in pasta just doesn’t rattle your Rhubarb”, but it does mine. So if you have aversions to… or want to rant about the unsanitariness of eating raw eggs… or just want to sell your own particular brand of crazy here…. go away. I can’t be bothered. Here’s the thing – the eggs aren’t raw. Adding the egg mixture to freshly drained pasta cooks it very gently – creating an almost creamy, custard coating for the linguine. It should completely coat the strands and not puddle in the bottom of the bowl. If, for some freakish reason, it has… then you did it wrong. Traditional carbonara consists of: Some Cured Pork Product – I’ve used a combination of super fatty bacon and Capicola because I prefer …

Egg Smash, and the Tater Tot Frittata

  Usually, I’m pretty conscientious when I go shopping… I bring my own bags, I load my cart with fragile things tucked under or in the little flippy basket, I arrange things on the conveyor checkout thingy so bruisy – easily damaged things don’t end up under the laundry detergent, and I don’t let them bag my crap in 10,000 flimsy plastic bags. I hate those things. Loading them into the trunk and hauling 60 bags into the house with 2 things in it just makes me crazy. But I was distracted. … and I forgot my bags … and before I could go all insane old man on them, they had bagged my entire haul into 22 little plastic bags. So I wheeled my cart full of windsocks out to the car and barreled home in a fury. I was still irritated when I got home, and I began snatching handfuls of lightly filled bags – not really paying attention to what I was doing… and slung the  bag with 2 lemons and a dozen …

The Mayo Clinic

While theoretically a sauce, mayonnaise has become the mother of all condiments in the  States. A tomato sandwich just isn’t a sandwich without mayo, and a banana sammich – if you ain’t got the mayonnaise, just forget about it. It is the basis for thousands of sandwich spreads, it is the glue – the lubrication – and the binder for any well appointed thing between 2 slices of bread…. and I’m of the camp that “more is better.” Although, one of Jane’s first babysitters for us kids used to make ham sandwiches that squooched mayo out the sides when you tried to bite into it. I think there’s a happy place somewheres just short of that mark. Here’s the thing, I used to giggle when people said they made their own condiments. Making something that you can pick up off the shelf never really made all that much sense…. until 2 years ago. As you know, we’re currently living in prepared food hell, so anything that used to be a no-brainer now has dire consequences. …

Eggsentialism and the Souffle Omelette

  Growing up, my dad cooked breakfast most mornings. There were the run of the mill mornings with toasted biscuit halves and jam, or a big bowl of grits, or Cheese toast and bacon, or the dreaded pancakes. And, there was the rare morning of the odd bowl of cereal…. but those were  – like I said – rare. Most days he cooked… something. Every so often he would make this frittata for breakfast – Eggs, cheese, and whatever meats he had on hand…. although to be fair, he didn’t call it a frittata – he called it an oven omelette. Regardless of the name, the process is  pretty simple: Greased Heavy Iron Skillet – check! Pile o’eggs Beaten to a froth – check! Grated Cheese – check! Diced Meat – Check, Check, Check, check-y check! whisk everything together, pour into a heated skillet and bake it until brown, crusty, golden and bubbly. Sounds simple…right? I can’t do it… never have been able to. The crust never forms right, or it’s too greasy, or the cheese …

The Sandwich Diaries ~ Egg Salad

Alright, I’m a fan of mayonnaise-based sandwich spreads. Why? Because I’m basically a lazy person. Nothing says quick eats than slicing some of that tangzhong bread, opening a container and spreading on a little (or a lot… in my case) of some ready-made spreadable stuff… Easy peasy – lunch is done. Besides, these days I’ve taken to making my own mayonnaise since I can’t find a full bodied, soy-free mayo that doesn’t taste like Miracle Whip mixed with cole slaw dressing. (I’m more the tart Duke’s, or Hellman’s kind of guy). And while I’m at it… that’s something else that’s kinda cranking my rice krispies.. so to speak. Why can’t companies that do make  a canola oil based mayo, simply use the exact same recipe as their regular mayo – and just substitute the oils. They never do. They want to monkey around with the formulation – change the ingredients – make it sweeter……. As though the American diet doesn’t already have enough sugar floating around in it. Any who…. I’m making my own… … …

Buttermilk French Toast

We’ve been talking buttermilk the past couple of days, and I realize not everyone knows what I mean when I refer to “good” buttermilk. So, let’s look at the dairy counter for a bit. Undoubtedly, you’re going to see a minimum of three different kinds of buttermilk when you look at the labels – Cultured Whole Fat – Cultured Non Fat – and generic, non-specific buttermilk… let’s call it  –  FAKE. But to get a sound understanding as what it is supposed to be, we’ll go back to the very beginning, and start with the original way to get it. … is a by-product of butter production. Whole, cream top milk (meaning – milk straight out of the cow) is dumped into an earthenware churn jug and allowed to sit in a warm area for a minimum of 24 hours. This time allows the milk base to form enzymes that begin to break down the milk and causes to liquid to sour slightly and clabber (clump up a bit). Once the proper aging has happened …

OLÉ! – kinda…

Ideally, there should be a bit of a travel story depicting my drunken body staggering into some dirty backwater, iguana-crawling, cha-cha playing, peeling concrete floored cantina somewhere down in the backwoods of the Yucatan Peninsula where I first had Chilaquiles. But that would be a fib. The drunkenness, staggering and crawling are probably correct – but I have no recollection of that event, .. sir… No, I first had them a great deal closer. In fact, right across the street from my old house in the Virginia-Highlands neighborhood of Atlanta. Not exactly South of the Border… but it was South-ish of Buckhead…a bit. Chilaquiles are, for lack of a better word, a kind of Mexican casserole. They are traditionally made with left over (and preferably stale) tortilla chips, simmered in salsa, and cooked with either eggs or left-over chicken. It’s comfort food plus – like Mexico City Chicken and Dumplings… or Jalisco Mac n Cheese… or Tijuana Tetrazzini… or. .. . you get the picture. My take on that Deep South classic is a little lighter than the traditional. Since …

Copper River Salmon – King and Roasted Corn Omelette

 Having a plethora of fresh salmon to do my bidding makes me feel a little invincible, and yes..like something off Mount Olympus… BE A PIZZA – and  Voila! there he is – A Fresh Pea Pesto with Salmon Medallions and Caramelized Red Onions BE A ROAST – and… it’s a roast – An Open-Face  Aubergine / Porcini Coulibiac (We’ll get to both of those this next week) … or maybe that’s just the Omega -3s talking… I dunno… But I feel pretty damned special. My latest incantation was for an Asian inspired Omelette. “Salmon,” I says, ” Make me something with sesame oil, scallions and fermented black beans.” Fish in the Bag says, “I can do you one better, O’ tikkity-typey man, I’ll throw in some of that corn you roasted the other night and some fish sauce.” “Who’s owning who now?” Well played, mighty ruby-red king… “Let’s see you do your stuff.” What… you don’t talk to your ingredients? First, the corn. The roasted corn is the Nero Wolfe method. Yes, that Nero Wolfe, the crime …

Different is nice, but it sure isn’t pretty…

I know from “different”, I’ve been different all my life… we’re best pals. Third Child Syndrome really sort of lays the groundwork for that. The first child is the over achiever, the second gets the brains and mechanical ability, and the third…well, we get what’s left over in the gene soup … the propensity for compassion, artistic ability (did I tell you I played the flute in school?) a tough skin (obviously), and that needling little gene that makes crying at anything even remotely sentimental on the Hallmark Channel perfectly natural…. we’re a piece of work. Different has constant companion through numerous first dates (Oh, you’re different from the other guys I’ve got out with” – translation = You’re one step off from bizarre – and no, there wont be a second date… don’t even ask.) and introductions  (Wow, you’re a lot different from X’s other friends – I still haven’t figured that one out). It has pushed me to the background in group photos  ” You, yeah… you – step behind those pretty girls…and a little further back… …

Torta di Pasta – Spaghetti Pie

Perfect can come in many forms a date a day a moment a bite… Torta di Pasta is the perfect anytime thing. It’s breakfast or a simple lunch. It is the best mid-afternoon snack pulled right out of the fridge. It’s a late night supper or an after-the-club nosh. It has even been known to seal the deal after a date… “Would you like to come in for a nightcap and a little something to eat?~ nudge nudge – wink wink“ I was raised to always keep cooked rice or pasta on hand. “Pasta in the fridge is like money in the bank”, Jane would always say. – and to be perfectly honest with you, this works best with leftover pasta or rice. You want your starch to be slightly dry so that everything sticks and coats well. If you don’t happen to be a starch hoarder – cook the pasta to just underdone (slightly more al dente than you would normally cook it.) And the best part of all? It’s quick. The torta comes together with around 7 minutes of …