Eggs and me, a love story

Listen, kids. I know. It’s been 10 days. Have you ever tried to keep up a blog? It’s hard. Especially when you are visiting your sister in California and you’re living out of a suitcase and meals aren’t planned so much as they are “MacGuyver-ed.”

well hello there

well HELLO there

What there ARE, are chickens (what there is are? what there are is? ACH grammar). Which means fresh eggs.

oil need not apply

don't you dare break those yolks

And where there are fresh eggs there is me ogling them creepily all the damn time until I’m like, ENOUGH, fetch me a frying pan. Genetically unfortunate cholesterol levels aside, when I want eggs I NEED eggs. And there is no greater way (repeat, NO. GREATER. WAY.) to highlight the egg than in a breakfast sandwich and/or burrito. Let me break it down for you. Every good breakfast sandwich needs the following:
Eggs (of course)
Cheese
Some sort of crunch (bacon, pickles, etc)
Some sort of tang (hot sauce, ketchup, etc) [note: it is acceptable to combine crunch & tang]
Salt and pepper
Toast/bun/tortilla

they're all there

That’s not ALL that should go on a good egg sandwich, but them’s the bare bones. I plan on fully exploring this subject until I can confidently say what constitutes the best breakfast sandwich ever. So far it was a burrito from a place called Pipes in San Diego, and it featured home-fried potatoes and HUGE chunks of avocado. And I think sausage. And wonderful hot sauce. Hmmm. Anyone up for a trip to San Diego?

moan-inducing

Until that happens, the above was an acceptable substitute. Scanwich worthy, almost. It was pretty simple too…2 runny eggs (I loathe overcooked eggs), half an avocado, thinly sliced cheddar, salt, pepper, sriracha (or “cock sauce” as my sister’s roommate lovingly calls it).

So, I know. You wait 10 days and then I don’t even give you a legitimate recipe. But haven’t I made you want to eat eggs? And bacon? And accoutrement? Be kind, kids. It’s really sunny here. It’s making my priorities crumble.

Guest Blogger in the Kitch

As most of you know, I am one of very few people in this country who is not the least bit Irish. I know, I know, “Everyone is Irish on St. Patrick’s Day.” Well, instead of pretending, I’m handing the reigns over to my dear friend Katie for my very first guest blog post. She’ll take good care of you. So, without further ado….

Top o’ the mornin’ to you loyal Kat in the Kitch readers. Did you come to Katrina’s blog for a delicious St. Patrick’s Day recipe and a healthy dose of humor? Well, I can’t promise the latter, but I’m hoping to entice you with an Irish classic done right. You’re justified in asking, “Who’s ‘I,’ and why should I believe that whatever she makes me bake will be edible?” Well, I am Katie, Katrina’s brother’s girlfriend, provider of the chocolate from Madagascar that was featured in that torte recipe you so adore…and you should trust me because, well, the recipe I’ll be sharing with you is from Martha Stewart Living, and you would trust Martha, wouldn’t you? PLUS, I’m Irish!  So I have to have some wonderful insight on what makes for delicious Irish fare, right?

Full container, six bucks later!

To be honest…I’m about as Irish as Geraldo Rivera is Hispanic (three generations and a few odd ball relatives to thank for that), and I’ve always had a bit of a gripe with my heritage, for several reasons. 1) When I was in my vulnerable teen years, the red hair and freckles got me a) some corny nickname like Scarlet O’Hara or Raggedy Ann from smelly, creepy old men, or b) a fair amount of torment from one of about seven middle school boys who I’d STILL like to punch in the nose… 2) Our “classic” meal consists of corned beef, which I don’t eat because I am a vegetarian… and cabbage, which I avoid because it makes me gassy…  And 3) the reputation for being able to put ‘em down only gets me into trouble.

This better be worth it...

Ready for a mixin

So after all that complaining, (did I mention the agonizing sunburns?), I bet you’re still wondering why the heck I was asked to be a guest blogger, and what the heck kind of recipe I could be blogging about!  It’s not beer.  It’s not potatoes.  Have you guessed it yet?

Not me...

Not me either...

Nope.

Irish soda bread! This bread has renewed in me a sense of Irish pride… but seriously, let’s forget about me.

This lovely, lumpy loaf of bread is really yummy, I promise.  The only grievance I had with the recipe was that it called for ¼ cup of caraway seeds… and those little buggers don’t come cheap!  But, I have to advise, don’t skimp on the seeds!  One of the compliments I received on this bread came from the main lady’s mom herself, Mrs. Svoboda, and it went something like, “This bread has the perfect amount of caraway seeds.”  So there you go.  Don’t be stingy.  I’ve also heard that Craisins make a nice substitute for raisins… but I’m a stickler when it comes to following the recipe verbatim.  So, the choice is yours.

Lumpy on the outside, delicious on the inside

Now, I know Katrina likes her food lookin’ pretty–unfortunately, this bread isn’t so.  It’s kind of like me in middle school.  Awkward looking, boys might not want to try it, but if they do, they’ll realize how beautiful and wonderful it is, and they’ll keep coming back for more.  At the end of her recipe, Martha made sure to say, “Irish soda bread is best eaten the day it is made.”  So get baking!

You see? I can represent.

Irish Soda Bread
From Martha Stewart Living, March 2009

Makes 1 Loaf

1 1/3 cups whole milk (If you have some that is headed south, here’s your opportunity to waste not.)
1/3 cup apple-cider vinegar
3 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for surface and dusting
2 ½ teaspoons coarse salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 ounces (4 tablespoons) cold, unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
1 cup unprocessed wheat bran
¼ cup caraway seeds
1 cup (5 ounces) raisins

Salted butter for serving

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Line a baking sheet with parchment.  Mix milk and vinegar in a small bowl, and let stand until thickened, about 5 minutes.

Whisk together flour, salt, and baking soda in a large bowl.  Cut in unsalted butter until mixture resembles a coarse meal.  Add bran, caraway seeds, and raisins; stir to distribute.

Pour milk mixture into flour mixture; stir until dough just holds together but is still sticky.  Turn dough onto a lightly floured surface.  Pat and press the dough gently into a round, dome-shaped loaf, about 7 inches in diameter.  Transfer to a prepared sheet.

Lightly dust top of loaf with flour.  With a sharp knife, cut an X into the top, ¾ inch deep.  Bake, rotating halfway through, until loaf is golden brown and a tester inserted in the center comes out clean, about 1 hour, 10 minutes.  Let cool on a wire rack.

Pi Day: The Aftermath

Reader, how was your Pi Day? I’m going to cut right to the chase, I ate no fewer than 5 slices of pie. I had pie for breakfast (which I never usually do), pie with lunch, and pie before AND after dinner. Sitting here now, thinking about it, I am impressed with myself. That is a lot of pie to eat on top of a normal daily diet.

passing pie through the pie hole

better to be on the receiving end

We spent the day in Oakland because today is also the day my sister got the keys to her new house. We knew there was a pie window from the kitchen to the dining room so we came prepared.

Riddle me this, readers. What is pie divided by 3 hungry people? The answer is zero pie. After eating the entire Glazed Strawberry Pie (which, spoiler, tastes pretty much like pie crust and strawberries) on the back porch we attempted to work off the pie by weeding for a few hours. How long does one have to weed to burn off 5 slices of pie?

her first pie!

1.57079633

What I failed to mention yesterday is that my pies were not the only ones being created in Davis for Pi Day. My sister’s friend Cassandra also got in on the action, creating her very first (gasp!) pie. She chose a mango one, and despite the mangoes being slightly under ripe, it came out great. A little bit of gingered sugar on top gives it a nice punch.

Mango Pie
from Cooking Light, May 2005

Pie Crust for a 2-layer pie

Filling:
2/3  cup packed brown sugar
3  tablespoons cornstarch
4 1/2  cups (1/2-inch-thick) mango wedges (about 4 medium)
1  tablespoon chilled butter, cut into small pieces

Topping:
1 1/2  teaspoons fat-free milk
2  tablespoons chopped crystallized ginger
1  tablespoon granulated sugar

Preheat oven to 425°.

Unwrap dough; place 1 portion chilled dough on a lightly floured surface. Roll dough into a 12-inch circle. Fit dough into a 10-inch deep-dish pie plate coated with cooking spray.

To prepare filling, combine 2/3 cup brown sugar and cornstarch in a large bowl, stirring well with a whisk. Add mango; toss to coat. Add mango mixture to prepared pie plate; sprinkle evenly with 1 tablespoon butter.

Unwrap dough; place remaining chilled dough portion on a lightly floured surface. Roll dough into a 12-inch circle. Fit dough over mango mixture. Press edges of dough together. Fold edges under; flute. Cut several slits in top of dough to allow steam to escape.

To prepare topping, brush top of dough with milk. Combine ginger and granulated sugar; sprinkle evenly over dough. Place pie plate on a foil-lined baking sheet; bake at 425° for 20 minutes. Reduce oven temperature to 375°; bake an additional 30 minutes or until pie is golden brown. Cool completely on a wire rack.

Pi Day!

HONOR ME DAMMIT

Happy (merry?) Pi Day everyone! I would be lying if I said I’ve been looking forward to this day all year. I was just informed about it several days ago by my sister (she’s a science type). However, now that I know about it, it might become my favorite holiday. Because as of today it IS an official holiday, per the desires of our Congress.

picked from the neighborhood trees!

devoid of life juices

I had kind of a blast reading the article about how they passed the bill to create Pi Day. It ended with a great quote from Representative John P. Murtha: “We were never good at math in my family. I thought I was voting for p-i-e.”

it's spring!

yellowy goodness

WELL, Mr. Murtha, you WERE voting for p-i-e. Because who in their right mind would celebrate something like Pi Day without baking p-i-e-s. Specifically lemon meringue and glazed strawberry p-i-e. Because homonyms often equal puns, and I like puns, and I like pies. So god help us, we will celebrate Pi Day with pies.

ready to be meringued

so fluffy

And didn’t I promise you spring? Check out those strawberries. BAM. Spring. Delivered. Here in Davis, CA, March is all lamb. Things are blooming, shorts are being worn (by me), and strawberries taste like strawberries, not celery painted red. I smelled lilac today! I found a bouquet in someone’s discarded backyard trimmings. For the lemon meringue, I used lemons from a tree in my sister’s backyard and from a tree in the co-op across the street. Then, a unicorn gave me a ride home.

meringued!

Minestrone Soup with Kale and Butternut Squash

I’m back! Did you miss me? It was hard being away from you, but I managed. With the help of this:

And apparently, when I got back, it hadn’t magically morphed into full-blown spring like I was hoping. So I’m giving you a soup to carry you through these last lion days of March. I know, I know. Another soup with butternut squash in it. Another soup in general! You are right to complain. It seems like all I make is soup and pancakes. Hey, I like to give options. It’s technically a fall soup so we are all sorts of out of season here…but really the only fall-specific thing in here was the squash.

mirepoix as per usual

Also, it’s another soup from The Art of Simple Food. I have been pimping that cookbook pretty hard, I know…but I get obsessive when I get new things. I just need to buy myself a new cookbook. Or you could buy one for me.

so colorful, and naturally! take that, rainbow cookies.

The only issue here was that good old King Kullen’s, our town’s bizarro market, didn’t have any kale (even though they SAID they did). I picked up some collard greens, which I was assured were the closest of kin, and everything worked out.

so squeaky

You’re going to miss soup, you know you are. Better eat up before it’s salads and barbecue and all that good summer fare.

i'll miss you, readers

As for me, I am off to northern California for the next 2 weeks, hopefully avoiding the last desperate throes of winter. Don’t fret! I’ll try to post as often as possible while I’m out there, and the posts will take a decidedly spring-y turn. Bon voyage, fair readers.

Fall Minestrone with Kale and Butternut Squash
from The Art of Simple Food

Prepare:
1 cup dried cannellini or borlotti beans (I used great northern white beans)
This will yield 2 1/2 to 3 cups of cooked beans. Reserve the cooking liquid.
Heat in a heavy-bottomed pan over medium heat:
1/4 cup olive oil
Add:
1 large onion, finely chopped
2 carrots, peeled and finely chopped
2 celery stalks, finely chopped
Cook for 15 minutes, or until tender. Add:
4 garlic cloves, coarsely chopped
1/2 teaspoon rosemary, chopped
1 teaspoon sage, chopped
1 bay leaf
2 teaspoons salt
1 bunch kale, stemmed washed and chopped
1 small can tomatoes, drained and chopped
Cook for 5 minutes longer. Add, and bring to a boil:
3 cups water
When boiling, add:
1 small leek, diced
1/2 butternut squash, peeled and cut into 1/4-in cubes (about 2 cups)
Cook for 15 minutes. Taste for salt and adjust as necessary.
Add the cooked beans, along with:
1 cup bean cooking liquid
Cook for 5 minutes. If the soup is too thick, add more bean cooking liquid. Remove the bay leaf.
Serve in bowls, each one garnished with:
2 teaspoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon or more grated Parmesan cheese
(I also added in some pre-cooked pasta at the end because it was lying around and I love me some pasta in minestrone soup)

Christmas in March

Newsflash, readers: It is not Christmas. However, I am posting these Puerto Rican Christmas cookies for you all to enjoy. Not because the snow outside is making me yearn for the blissful early days of winter (It’s REALLY not). Not because my brother has recently been practicing “Good King Wenceslas” on his trombone. Not because there is a fully-bloomed poinsettia in our house.

I am posting this recipe because at this time tomorrow I will be sitting on the beach in Puerto Rico. So while you all spend a few minutes being ragefully envious, please try to accept these cookies as my peace offering. Although, technically I’m not giving you any ACTUAL cookies. That’s up to you.

But really you have no excuse. Besides making tiny balls from the dough, everything else in this recipe is a complete breeze.

The only “Christmassy” thing about these is the hint of nutmeg…but paired with the almond it doesn’t make me want to deck the halls or anything. It’s subtle, and I believe nutmeg can be an anytime spice if it wants to be.

Mine flattened out quite a bit more than I’d like. The first time I had these, my boyfriend’s mom had brought some back around Christmas from one of her first graders. They were round and deliciously soft. Mine are more like little wafers. But that’s ok. They’re great with tea…or, I don’t know….a tall iced tea as you sit on the beach in 80 degree weather squishing sand between your toes.

So long, dear readers! I’ll be back on Monday with more recipes and less taunting.

Mantecaditos
from the mother of one of Mrs. Meyer’s first graders

2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg
3/4 cup butter
1/4 cup vegetable shortening (I just used another 1/4 cup of butter to make it an even cup)
1 1/2 teaspoons almond extract
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup sugar

Place oven rack in middle position of the oven. Preheat oven to 350 F. Combine flour and nutmeg; set aside. In a large bowl, beat butter, shortening and extracts with an electric mixer until smooth. Gradually add sugar to butter mixture and cream until mixture is light and fluffy. Blend in flour mixture. Dough should be slightly moist. If dough looks dry, sprinkle with water and work into dough. If dough is sticky, sprinkle with additional flour. Spoon dough by teaspoons and form into balls. Place on an ungreased baking sheet. Bake 15-20 minutes or until golden. Remove to a wire rack to cool.

Orange you glad I made this cake?

polenta cake in the sunset

I have issues with oranges. Don’t get me wrong, I love orange juice. And there is nothing quite like a really juicy orange in the thick of winter. But like, whoever thought that orange and chocolate was an ok combination? That person needs to be fired from coupling things. And I give all my orange-flavored mentos away. And orange-flavored baked goods….welllll, I just never really want to try them. I mean, I’ve added some orange zest to my cranberry bread and all that, but oranges have never been the star.

baby you a star!

now lose that extra weight

I suspect I am not the only one who feels this way. The first 2 comments on this cake after it was completed and sliced and served out were 1) “It’s edible,” and 2) “I’d eat it.” Not exactly the kind of glowing reviews that make you want to permanently promote the orange, right?

work that caramel

batter up!

So maybe you’re like me, and you glanced at this recipe in passing in February’s Gourmet. You thought to yourself, meh, another weird citrus cake. No thanks. And maybe you’re still like me, when, weeks later you thought to yourself “No More! No more shall I neglect the orange. Whither is my orange polenta cake recipe?”

And then maybe, after you burned the first batch of caramel, of course, you casually stuck a finger in the batter and you were like, HELLOO, where have you been all my life?

And then, when the cake made its debut to lukewarm reviews you still believed and then all of a sudden your reviewers had changed their minds and realized the error in their ways and plates were lining up to get a glimpse of this cake. And that’s when you knew. This cake is the Real Deal. The polenta and almonds are nutty crumbly without being dry, the oranges are plump and caramel-y and the glaze is sweet and shiny. In fact, according the article accompanying the recipe in Gourmet, this cake IS a star…the “signature” cake of a bakery in London. Bravo, cake. Bra-vo.

a star is born

Orange Polenta Cake
from Gourmet, February 2009 (ADAPTED FROM OTTOLENGHI: THE COOKBOOK)

Serves 6 to 8

For Caramel Orange Layer

1/2 cup superfine granulated sugar
2 tablespoons water
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into bits
2 navel oranges

For Cake

1 3/4 sticks unsalted butter, softened
1 cup superfine granulated sugar
3 large eggs
2 teaspoons orange-flower water (yeah…I know. I used 1 tsp vanilla extract instead. I think it tasted faboosh)
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 cups ground almonds (7 oz)
2/3 cup quick-cooking polenta

For Glaze

1/4 cup orange marmalade
1 tablespoon water

Make Caramel Orange Layer:
Preheat oven to 350°F with rack in middle. Lightly butter a 9-inch round cake pan, then line bottom with a round of parchment paper and side with a strip of parchment.
Bring sugar and water to a boil in a small heavy saucepan over medium heat, stirring until sugar has dissolved, then wash down any sugar crystals from side of pan with a pastry brush dipped in cold water. Boil, without stirring, swirling pan occasionally so caramel colors evenly, until dark amber.
Remove from heat and add butter, swirling pan until incorporated, then carefully but quickly pour caramel into cake pan, tilting it to coat evenly.
Grate zest from oranges and reserve for cake. Cut remaining peel, including white pith, from both oranges with a paring knife. Cut oranges crosswise into 1/4-inch-thick slices. Remove any seeds and arrange slices in 1 layer over caramel.

Make Cake:
Beat butter with sugar using an electric mixer until just combined. Add eggs 1 at a time, beating well after each addition. Mix in orange-flower water and reserved zest.
Whisk together flour, baking powder, and salt. With mixer at low speed, mix almonds, polenta, and flour mixture into egg mixture until just combined.
Spread batter evenly over oranges (preferably with an offset spatula). Bake until a wooden pick inserted into center comes out clean, 1 to 1 1/4 hours. Cool in pan 5 minutes. Invert cake onto a cake plate and discard parchment.

Glaze Cake:
Heat marmalade with water in a small saucepan until melted. Strain through a sieve into a small bowl. Brush top of cake with some of glaze. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Cooks’ note: Cake, without glaze, can be made 1 day ahead and kept, wrapped well, at room temperature. Glaze before serving.