Tomato Kumato

August 16, 2009

Tarte à l’oignon

Filed under: Eggs — Tags: , , — emiglia @ 10:35 am

It happens to all of us every once in awhile.

Sometimes you read the recipe wrong.

Other times, the recipe was wrong to begin with.

The oven ran cold, you thought the salt was sugar, you were in a rush, you invented something that didn’t work out. For one reason or another, you make a dish you weren’t proud of, and you have to decide what to do with it.

It honestly doesn’t happen to me too often, but then again, I don’t venture out of my comfort zone terribly often either. The handful of times I’ve truly made a mess in the kitchen over the past few years, I usually dump what I made and go on with life, serving something quick and simple instead or just ordering in sushi or pizza.

Unfortunately, this tactic does not work terribly well when your job is to cook dinner every night for 20 people.

I was lucky enough to be able to rely on things I knew well the majority of the time this summer. The chocolate mousse was a little thicker than I would have liked the second time around, and I over-salted a batch of pasta carbonara, but in general, I was doing fairly well… until a recipe for potato gratin.

I thought I’d learned my lesson when it came to potato gratins: no matter how much I trust the recipe-writer, no matter how much I love the idea of a newfangled version of potatoes and melted cheese, something always goes wrong unless I use my tried and true recipe for gratin dauphinois. Maybe it’s because I learned that recipe, as I feel that the best recipes should be learned, at the elbow of a native who had been making it for forever and a day when I lived in the north of France.

And yet, I tried again, and I failed.

Luckily, we had enough cheese and charcuterie and tomatoes and salad to make a well-rounded meal anyway, and the imperfect gratin lay forgotten in the oven until I worked up the courage to throw out the vast amount of cheese it took to make it. And luckily, I’m still learning.

This recipe isn’t mine: it’s Anne-Marie’s. It’s similar to a quiche, with caramelized onions, cream, eggs and nutmeg. Make your own pie crust if you like, but I love these ready-to-use crusts we get here, and anyway, what you care about are the onions, which I always have lying around, therefore making this the perfect thing to throw together when one of my experiments goes awry.

Onion Tart

1 kilo yellow onions
1 red onion
1/2 stick butter
1 Tbsp. olive oil
1 Tbsp. sugar
1 cup white wine (my addition)
a pinch of fresh ground nutmeg
6 eggs
25 cl. crème fraîche
2 refrigerated pâtes brisées
salt and pepper
1 tsp. thyme
1 tsp. French mustard
freshly grated nutmeg

Thinly slice all of the onions.

Heat the butter and oil over low heat and add the butter, oil, onions, sugar and a pinch of salt. Cook slowly for an hour, stirring occasionally. When the onions start to caramelize, begin adding the wine, a few tablespoons at a time. As the wine evaporates, add more until all of the wine has been added. Add the mustard, thyme and nutmeg as well as salt and pepper to taste.

Combine the eggs, crème fraîche and nutmeg in a bowl.

Roll out the pâtes brisées and place them in two tarte pans. Divide the onions equally between them, and pour the egg and crème fraîche mixture over the top. Bake at 350 degrees for about 30 minutes, until the top of the tarte is set and browned. Serve lukewarm with a green salad.

August 9, 2009

Quiche

Filed under: Eggs, Pork, Salad, Vegetarian Main Dishes, cheese — Tags: , — emiglia @ 10:22 am


We drive up the path, and even though I’ve been self-consciously wedged between my boyfriend’s mother and one of his best friends for the past several hours as we rode the straight-shot highway from the north–Paris–to the south, I can’t help squirming in my seat, causing the close physical contact I’ve been trying to avoid this whole time as I knock manouche #1’s elbow three or four times, craning my neck to see around him, to drink in everything.

Memories stream back into my consciousness as the reality sets in: grapevines, tiny winding roads. Castles so old I can’t even fathom it. Familiar signposts leading to even more familiar locations–I smile as I remember, not even having realized until this very moment that I had forgotten–the names of winemakers in the region, of nearby cafés, of the champion rugby team.

This feeling used to only come from Long Island–the only true home I had for years: the feeling of something, of some place, that is just so inexplicably right.

When I left Paziols last year, I wasn’t sure I would be coming back–plans were crumbling and rebuilding themselves left and right: a for-sure move to Argentina slowly became a quick jaunt to Spain, and a firm decision to leave Paris at the end of December was fading away as I realized that maybe I would be able to face my 18-month itch–that need I feel to move every year and a half–that maybe someone was more important to me than that feeling, that need, to move on.

But I was back–and, in spite of myself, in spite of the fact that I was dejected about the loss of my almost-job in Africa, despite the fact that I had no real idea what I would be doing at the end of the summer, I was back in Paziols for five weeks, and I allowed myself to be happy about it.

I have turned Paziols into a true home over the past few weeks–a metamorphosis that you, my readers and internet confidantes (no better kind) have witnessed as it unfolded, slowly creeping in around the edges, the way the midday sun here creeps into the cool and breezy mornings so that you don’t even notice until you realize you’re gulping down diabolo menthes by the glassful.

It seems bizarre that I only got here five weeks ago: I feel like I just got here, but at the same time, I feel as though I’ve been here forever. The house feels as though it has my imprint on it–my place at the table, in the chairs by the bookshelf, in my bed by the window in the attic–no place has seemed so right in a long time.

The past few days have been peppered with talk–talk of making programs in Paziols a more permanent thing. My heart skips a beat as I plan–my default setting–plan for adult classes in winemaking and cuisine, coordinating groups with lessons at the boulanger in Cucugnan. I imagine what it would be like to live here all the time–to welcome, not only two groups of children every summer, but other groups, other people, throughout the year. To share Paziols with even more people, and to get to know it better myself. I know it’s just a dream, just a haze in the distant and indefinite future, but for me, it already feels so real I can taste it.

And taste it I will… in time. For now, it’s goodbye again: goodbye to the light pink rosé we’ve been drinking all summer, to the fresh cheeses that sit upon our table every day. Goodbye to fresh baguettes every morning and three or four heads of lettuce consumed every day.

It’s goodbye to the tomatoes we’ve come to love–the ones that I dressed simply with garlic, basil, olive oil, oregano and feta cheese and made into the quintessential summer salad here in Paziols–the one that was missed the day I ran out of tomatoes and didn’t think anyone would notice.

It’s goodbye to perfect summer dishes that I loved to make and typical winter dishes that I sweated over but made anyway because you can’t come to southwestern France without tasting classic cassoulet.

This quiche was a lunchtime standard this summer, one that I could throw together over my shoulder as I spelled out directions slowly and carefully in French to sous-chefs unsure of the meanings of the words dorer, demi and ajouter.

It’s easy enough to throw together quickly for a crowd, but tasty enough to serve with a simple green salad as a classy summer dinner, for quiche, like so many things French has become synonomous with class back in the States, where I’m headed tomorrow. As for me, it’s just a synonym with France, with everything that has been my life for the past two years. And, like everything else, I find it simply delicious.

Quiche Lorraine
5 eggs
25 cl. crème fraîche
1 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. black pepper
1 pinch fresh nutmeg
400 g. lardons
2 onions, diced
1 refrigerated pâte brisée
1/2 cup grated emmental cheese

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.

Combine the eggs, crème fraîche, salt, pepper and nutmeg in a bowl until well combined and smooth. Set aside.

Heat the lardons in a skillet over medium heat. When they begin to release some grease, add the onions. Cook until the onions and lardons are golden brown.

Roll the pâte brisée out in a tart pan. Spread the lardons and onions over the bottom, and pour in the egg mixture. Sprinkle the emmental cheese over the top.

Bake for 15-20 minutes, until the top of the quiche is golden. It will puff up slightly, but don’t worry: as soon as you remove it from the oven, it will fall back into place. Serve with green salad simply dressed with homemade vinaigrette.


Vegetarian Quiche
5 eggs
25 cl. crème fraîche
2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. black pepper
1 tsp. dried basil
1 pinch fresh nutmeg
1 tbsp. butter
1 tsp. olive oil
1 carrot, diced
1 onion, diced
1 stalk celery, diced
1 red pepper, diced
1 orange pepper, diced
1 refrigerated pâte brisée
1/2 cup grated emmental cheese

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.

Combine the eggs, crème fraiche, salt, pepper, basil and nutmeg in a bowl until well combined. Set aside.

Meanwhile, heat the butter and olive oil over medium heat in a skillet. Add the vegetables and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and golden, about 10 minutes.

Roll out the pâte brisée in a tart pan. Spread the vegetables over the bottom, and then pour in the egg mixture. Sprinkle the emmental cheese over the top.

Bake for 15-20 minutes, until the top of the quiche is golden. It will puff up slightly, but don’t worry: as soon as you remove it from the oven, it will fall back into place. Serve with green salad simply dressed with homemade vinaigrette.

Homemade Vinaigrette
1 tsp. French mustard
50 cl. cider vinegar
50 cl. extra virgin olive oil
50 cl. sunflower oil
1 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. black pepper

Place all ingredients in a clean jar with a lid. Shake to combine. Taste for seasoning. Use to dress clean, cool lettuce just before serving.

June 23, 2009

Mediterranean Vegetable-Cheese Pie

Filed under: Eggs, Vegetarian Main Dishes — Tags: , , , , , , — emiglia @ 6:27 am

“And it’s so healthy!” My father exclaims, digging into a huge bowlful of salad.

My siblings and I are used to these conversations. I twirl another forkful of spaghetti and my sister blots the grease from her slice of pizza, both of us aware of the fact that our dinner choices are probably ten times healthier than my father’s. My brother smiles to himself as he cuts into a steak: he doesn’t care whether what he’s eating is healthy or not… he’s got the metabolism of, well, a teenage boy.

“I could eat this for every meal, every day. It’s just so fresh! Do you think you could make me a salad like this for dinner?”

“Sure…” My mom answers, in the same voice she used to use when we used to ask if planting watermelon seeds in the backyard would sprout real watermelons. She’s a preschool teacher, and she’s very good at egging on our childish plans. She doesn’t bother to correct my father and tell him that she makes a salad with dinner every night that’s ten times healthier than the one he’s eating.

My father suffers from the same jilted look on reality that so many Americans do: he thinks that anything with vegetables–even a salad laden with dressing, salt, cheese and croutons–is healthy. He thinks that anything with grill marks is oil-free. I used to believe him, until I started cooking myself and realized how much oil goes into some of the “healthy” options that we’re all used to.

As a food blogger, I sometimes have trouble with portion control, with tasting all of the things I make for this blog just a few too many times. Luckily, Ann from Redacted Recipes has provided a recipe truly worthy of the title “healthy,” with deliciousness to boot.

This pie, made up of vegetables, eggs and lowfat cheeses is truly worhty of the title “healthy.” And, like Ann, I feel no regret in finishing half the pie myself and calling it dinner.

Mediterranean Vegetable-Cheese Pie (adapted from Redacted Recipes)

Olive-oil cooking spray
2 medium potatoes, sliced in 1/8-inch rounds
1/2 cup diced onion
8 oz (about 8 cups) baby spinach, from frozen, thawed
3 garlic cloves, chopped
2 whole eggs
3 egg whites
1/2 cup ricotta
1/2 cup nonfat cottage cheese
3 tbsp finely chopped basil, plus more for garnish
1 zucchini, sliced into 1/4-inch rounds
1 1/2 tbsp grated Asiago or Parmesan
salt and pepper

Heat oven to 350°. Coat a 9″ pie plate with cooking spray. Line bottom of plate with potato slices. Cut remaining slices in half and arrange around side of plate. Season with salt and pepper. Lightly spray them again. Bake 12 to 15 minutes. Remove from oven and set aside.

Coat a sauté pan with cooking spray and sauté onion over low heat until tender, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and saute about 1 minute. Add the spinach and stir until just heated through. Remove from heat. Drain excess fluid from onion and spinach mixture.

In a bowl, beat eggs and egg whites. Stir in ricotta and cottage cheese. Add half the basil and a pinch of salt and set aside.

Spoon onion and spinach mixture into pie plate over potatoes. Layer on egg mixture, then slices of zucchini.

Bake 35 to 40 minutes or until egg is set and a knife inserted into pie comes out clean. Sprinkle grated cheeses evenly over top of pie and top with basil garnish. Return to oven for 5 minutes or until cheese melts. Remove from oven and let sit for 5 minutes. Cut pie into 4 wedges. Serve immediately.

February 4, 2009

Pasta with Egg and Shallot

Filed under: Eggs, Pasta, Vegetarian Main Dishes — Tags: , — emiglia @ 10:23 am

In the tradition of pasta carbonara, I took cooked pasta and uncooked eggs and came up with this.

It’s not really the same as carbonara: as you can probably see, the eggs get more scrambled than saucy, although I’m sure you could avoid that if you wanted to.

As for me, it had all the perfect elements of a scramble and carbonara: I felt it was eggy enough to eat for breakfast, treating the pasta as more of an omelette filling than the main portion of the dish, but you could just as easily serve it for dinner.

I think the sweet shallots bring a great element to the dish: it’s a very delicate combination of flavors, but it works well.

Pasta with Egg and Shallot

4 oz. uncooked pasta
2 eggs, lightly whisked
1 shallot, minced
1 tsp. olive oil
salt and pepper

Cook the pasta in salted, boiling water until al dente. Reserve a few tablespoons of the starchy water.

Meanwhile, in a skillet, heat the olive oil and sauté the shallot with a bit of salt. Turn the heat off. Add the cooked pasta to the hot skillet and toss with the oil and shallot until combined. Pour in the eggs and mix together until the eggs are just cooked. Season with salt and pepper.

August 11, 2008

Praise-Worthy Quiche

Filed under: Eggs — Tags: , , , , , , , — emiglia @ 7:37 am

When I first learned how to cook, I had a severe fear of making something that would taste like soap. Not that it would taste bad, or that I would overcook or undercook it… it was a very specific fear that every food I made, from lasagna to tiramisu to salad dressing, would taste like soap.

I got over it eventually, but I still get this creeping feeling when I’m cooking for a large group of people that whatever it is I’m making will end up being inedible.


(This is why I don’t have a problem when tasty things end up looking a little odd… like this quiche that was removed from its tin a bit too soon and subsequently collapsed all over the serving dish.)

My fear of making inedible food is made even worse considering the fact that I don’t really have any fall-back dishes. I have one salmon dish that I do pretty well, a decent chili recipe and the Marlboro Man Sandwich, but really, half the fun of cooking for someone is finding out what their individual tastes are and then working a new recipe around them. I know, I know… huge mistake. You’re never supposed to make a new recipe for a crowd, but I somehow always manage to do so.

This means that when I recently became responsible for dinner here in Paziols, I was at a bit of a loss. I knew that I would be making quiche, to get rid of some lardons we had hanging around the house, but other than that, I had no idea what to do.

I found a simple recipe for quiche Lorraine online to get some basics down, and from there, I improvised… slightly scary when the end result was meant to feed more than twenty people, but I’m starting to get used to it.

I began by cooking the lardons with some diced rosette (similar to salami) and saucisson sec (a cured pork sausage). The mix was more because we had run out of lardons than anything else, but in the end, the different flavors went over well.

Traditional quiche Lorraine does not have onions or veggies in it, but I decided to throw some leeks into the mix, which I cooked in some of the reserved fat from the pork. I placed the mixture in prepared pâte brisée shells (gotta love France), and added a mixture of milk, crème fraîche, eggs, pepper and nutmeg. I baked them, and then when they were almost cooked, I topped them with shredded Emmental cheese and allowed it to melt.

This step is not traditional either, but I like a quiche with a crispy cheese topping, and no one seemed to mind my de-traditionalizing of the French classic. (People also don’t seem to mind my purposeful butchering of the English language when I can’t find a vocabulary word that suits what I want to say. And if you do mind… well… I don’t care. I was a linguistics major, so what I say goes.)

We also have two special orders in the house: three people who don’t eat pork, and one lactose intolerant. For Miss Doesn’t-Eat-Dairy, there was a personal-sized quiche with soy milk in place of regular milk and no crème fraîche. The final result had a bit of a strange texture… almost gelatinous, but the flavor was fine. I would suggest trying soy yogurt in place of the crème fraîche to get closer to the original texture.


I was at a bit of a loss for the vegetarians at first, but in the end, I decided to do a quiche in the style of a Spanish tortilla, and so I cooked some potatoes and leeks in oil with salt and pepper, and then added this and the egg mixture to another pâte brisée shell.

The result was unbelievable… don’t ask me: ask everyone else in the house. I was immediately surprised when one of the girls came up to me and actually hugged me halfway through the meal to thank me for the (vegetarian) quiche. Afterwards, even the pickiest eaters of the group let me know that my quiche had hit a home run… much of it disappeared even before the American staple of macaroni and cheese.

Even after the stress induced by a minor head injury on an outing earlier that day, my (French!) boss let me know that the quiche was excellent, and Alex let me know that I am free to make it for him in Paris. I’d put that as one point in the victory column in my personal vendetta against old standby dishes.

Non-Traditional Quiche Lorraine

Note: I’m posting my original amounts, which makes six quiches, because I’ve never made it in smaller quantities. I’m assuming it would work well scaled-down also, however think about making extra, because it’s quite tasty cold with a green salad for lunch the next day.

5 leeks
600 g lardons
300 g rosette
300 g saucisson sec

6 pâtes brisées

150 cl crème fraîche
18 eggs
1.5 liters of semi-skimmed milk
1.5 tsp. nutmeg
1/2 tbsp. black pepper

300 g grated emmental cheese

Preheat the oven to 190 degrees Celsius.
Cook the meat in a skillet over medium high heat until brown. Remove with a slotted spoon and drain off all but a few tablespoons of the fat. Slice the white and light green parts of the leeks thinly, and cook in the pork fat until tender. Add the meat back to the skillet and set aside.

Combine the crème fraîche, eggs, milk, nutmeg and pepper in a large bowl. Mix until well combined.

Roll out the pie shells and place in pie pans. Using a fork, pierce all over to prevent rising. Evenly distribute the meat and onion mixture in all of the shells, and then pour the egg mixture over the meat and onions. Bake until slightly firm on top, about 25 minutes, and then scatter the cheese over the top. Bake until the cheese is melted and golden and the filling is set but not hard, about another 10 minutes. Allow to cool slightly before slicing and serving.

Vegetarian Quiche

1 tbsp. vegetable oil
1 leek
2 tsp. salt
4 Yukon gold potatoes

3 eggs
1/4 liter milk
20 cl crème fraîche
1 pinch of nutmeg
1 tsp. black pepper

1 prepared pâte brisée

100 g emmental cheese

Preheat the oven to 190 degrees Celsius.

Thinly slice the white and light green parts of the leek and the potatoes. Heat the oil over medium heat, and add the potatoes, leeks and salt. Cook until the potatoes are cooked through and the leeks are soft, about ten minutes.

In a large bowl, combine the eggs, milk, crème fraîche, nutmeg and pepper.

Roll out the pie crust and spread the potato and onion mixture over the bottom. Add the egg mixture. Bake until slightly set, about 25 minutes. Scatter the cheese on top and bake until the mixture is set and the cheese is melted and golden, another 10 minutes. Allow the quiche to cool slightly before slicing and serving.

June 23, 2008

Curry Scrambled Eggs

Filed under: Curry, Eggs — Tags: , , — emiglia @ 9:06 am

I recently discovered a jar of pre-made curry paste in the back of my cupboard, you know, that kind that “makes delicious, homestyle Indian dishes a snap,” or something, which was left for me by the thoughtful people who rented my apartment before me. While I was slightly skeeved at the idea of using other people’s food, I also was running low on cash before I left Paris and therefore could not be choosy.

All I could afford before I left were eggs and potatoes, basically. Oh, and yogurt. Because I can’t live without my yogurt. So I rummaged through my cupboard and fridge and found a few things to toss in to make myself a healthy and delicious (my god, I feel like Rachael Ray) breakfast/lunch/dinner. (Yes… I kept making it until I left.)

The curry paste I had was just called Red Curry Paste, I think. It had lemon and black pepper and red lentils, and it was quite tasty. I’m sure that substituting whatever curry paste you have on hand wouldn’t compromise the *ahem* integrity of this dish whatsoever.

Oh, how I love when I’m thrifty and a genius at the same time. And to top it all off, I’m modest too!

Curry Scrambled Eggs

1 tsp. olive oil
2 tbsp. curry paste
2 eggs
1/2 125 g. pot of plain yogurt
½ cup thawed frozen spinach, heated

Heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the curry paste and stir until cooked through, about a minute. Crack the eggs into the skillet and continue to stir until the eggs form curds, about five minutes. Stir in the yogurt and spinach. Serve. Repeatedly, if you are me.

June 13, 2008

Slow-Cooked Scrambled Eggs

Filed under: Eggs, Uncategorized — Tags: , — emiglia @ 8:17 am

Would you believe me if I told you that all that is is some olive oil, eggs, milk, salt and pepper?

Yeah… I didn’t think so. Even looking at the picture now, it’s hard to believe that that melty texture doesn’t come from liberal amounts of Kraft American cheese, the only cheese I know that melts to pure liquid without warning on contact with heat. But I kid you not: those eggs have nothing to do with cheese. It’s all about timing.

Slow cooking, to be precise. Low and slow. Those eggs are the result of a painstaking process whereby I cracked eggs into a barely warm skillet with just a touch of olive oil and then stirred and stirred for minutes upon minutes.

I’m not going to give a recipe: it’s too simple. Just try it yourself, bearing in mind the key: SLOW. Don’t rush it… it’s worth it in the end. Keep your fire low, and remove the skillet from the fire for a few seconds if the eggs start to curdle too fast. And then just as they start to come together, add salt and pepper, turn them over to a plate, and serve them hot with toast for dipping. It’s like a fried egg, but scrambled. And amazingly delicious.

May 7, 2008

Simple Sandwich

Filed under: Bread, Daring Bakers, Eggs, cheese — Tags: , , , , — emiglia @ 10:51 am

I found this picture lurking from when the Daring Bakers baked baguette back in the winter. This is what I did with mine, besides just eat it plain: slathered with mustard, some good roquefort cheese and slices of hard-boiled egg, this sandwich reigns supreme over most other sandwiches I’ve ever made… could be the homemade baguette, but I’m thinking it has more to do with the quality of the ingredients available here in France: spicy mustard, good flavorful blue cheese and fresh eggs.

Egg and Cheese Sandwich

1/2 baguette
1 hard-boiled egg, sliced
2 tsp. good, spicy mustard
2 oz. good blue cheese like roquefort or gorgonzola

Slice the baguette down the middle and spread both sides with mustard. Add the egg and cheese, and season with a grinding of black pepper if you like. Close sandwich and consume. Smile.

March 20, 2008

The Incredible Edible Egg

Filed under: Eggs — Tags: , , — emiglia @ 7:02 am

I haven’t always been as big a fan of eggs as I am now. I remember being forced to eat scrambled eggs as a child and hating them. I liked hard-boiled eggs, but only because my grandmother had one of those fancy hard-boiled egg slicer things, and I liked seeing the egg split into perfectly even slices.

I watched with awe as my father poked the yolks of his poached eggs, but I had no desire to eat the semi-cooked yellow ooze myself. How strange… now it’s my favorite way to eat eggs, fried over potatoes or sometimes some cooked spinach.

I really started liking eggs in high school, when my best friends and I would traipse down to the diner in the town where our boarding school was for the lunch special: five dollars for eggs, potatoes, toast, juice and coffee. I always got mine fried, very soft, so that I could mop up the yolk with the potatoes.

Since then, I have come to terms with the fact that eggs are the only thing that most college students can afford to eat in abundance, and since the Canadian loves fried eggs (he’ll eat five for breakfast), I’ve started buying the flat of thirty eggs at my local market. We even bought some goose eggs once, although they don’t scramble very well: the texture is very different from that of a chicken egg.

After awhile, even the Canadian got a little tired of fried eggs, and so I began inventing things. Omelettes, scrambles… anything to mix up our regular fare. I’ve been meaning to post these for awhile, but now that I’ve waited so long, I may as well give you all the recipes at once. Enjoy!

I don’t really work from recipes as far as eggs are concerned… mostly I use omelettes as a way to get rid of extras in my fridge. I scramble the eggs with milk, plain yogurt, fromage frais, crème fraîche or sour cream (or a combination) depending on what’s in the fridge, and then I move to the ad-ins. I’ll give you some outlines here though…

Mexican Scramble
The first picture is a Mexican scramble. it has salsa, thawed frozen spinach, and a bit of shredded cheese. I seasoned it with salt, pepper, hot chili pepper, coriander and cumin, and I had some Tabasco sauce on the side. I usually don’t make scrambles, but the amount of salsa in this one really makes it difficult to flip… so voila! A scramble.

Chorizo Omelette
The second picture is an omelette with Spanish-style chorizo (that’s the cooked kind), and some cheese… I think I used provolone. Any mild cheese will do… the Sausage packs a kick!

Gorgonzola and Mushroom Omelette
The last picture is an omelette with Gorgonzola cheese and cooked mushrooms. I fried the mushrooms first and then added the eggs and cheese, seasoning with a lot of black pepper.

The goose egg.

Check out other egg-related posts at the Art You Can Eat roundup on Eggs.

November 4, 2007

Fried Eggs

Filed under: Breakfast, Eggs, potatoes — Tags: , , , — emiglia @ 4:22 pm

What is it about fried eggs? They’re like a completely different animal from scrambled eggs or omelettes. There’s something about the barely cooked yolk breaking all over whatever else is on your plate that’s so satisfying.

When I was younger, my father used to mesmerize me by pretending the yolks of his fried eggs were eyes, and he would poke them and scream as I watched in disgusted admiration, standing by my old scrambled eggs, just this side of dry.

I’ve seen the error of my ways: even my scrambled eggs are barely cooked now. But my favorite? Fried, with some sort of starch to soak up the yolk. For my father, it was a fork-split English muffin, and I’ll go the Thomas’ route every once in awhile, but the best option is my mother’s home fries. She used to fry them up on random winter mornings before school: one onion for every potato, and one potato for every person. Fried the onions soft in olive oil and butter, adding the starchy potatoes, paprika for color, and salt and pepper. She’d wait until they stuck to the bottom with all the starch and sugar before flipping them, so every potato developed a dark, sweet crust. I made myself some of these potatoes, and then just as they finished, I moved them aside and fried my egg right alongside. When the yolk broke as I plated, I didn’t even mind.

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