Weekly Dish

Whew. What a year. How often I’ve wished that I’d found the time to stop in here and tell you more about it, but, as it turns out, this past year swooped in like a mother cat and snatched us up by the backs of our necks, dragging us from one destination to the next without once stopping to ask us if we were ready to move again.

The number one reason for that constant motion, of course, is that we started 2008 with a docile infant, just learning to crawl, and ended it with a toddler who runs full-throttle everywhere she goes, laughing gleefully or shouting, “No, no!” at the top of her lungs, depending upon her mood and whether or not the cat is doing something that displeases her (poor Matilda, our little black kitty who joined our family in the spring; it seems she can do nothing right as far as Josie is concerned.) The presence of a toddler makes our days full and chaotically busy and delightful and maddening all at the same time. And that’s without adding in work and school.

One happy obstacle completed in 2008: I passed my General Exams and am now, officially, a candidate for the Ph.D., a distinction known in the academic world as A.B.D. (all but dissertation). The dissertation is a big, momentous thing looming ahead, but it is only one thing. And since I’m a girl who likes to pour my intellectual concentration wholeheartedly into one, focused job at a time, that feels like a huge relief. For now, our immediate task ahead, is for David to finish his thesis show and graduate (hooray!) with his M.F.A. in May. I can’t wait.

In the midst of all of this, I am, slowly, learning how to be a cook in this still-new parent-teacher-student life, and I hope to occasionally document the ways that this season is changing how dinner gets on the table (as it still manages to do, miraculously). One way is that we always have good eggs in our refrigerator. At our local farmer’s market, eggs are such a hot commodity that if you aren’t there promptly at 8 a.m. when the bell rings signaling the start of business, you’re usually out of luck. It’s one of the only days of the week we’re thankful to have an early riser: Josie gets us there on time, and usually, we come home with eggs.

And it’s a good thing: they have sustained us through many, many a long week. This preparation is one of my favorites for when we have an abundance of Swiss chard in our garden, which, this year has been pretty much all the time, save the hottest months of the summer. You poach the eggs right in the pan with the greens, so it’s a one-dish meal, and except for the cooking of the eggs, it’s a fairly lazy method: the onions can be left alone for a while to carmelize, and then the greens can wilt at their lesiure after that. Chard is laden with nutrients, but the flavor can be a bit astringent; in this dish, the bitterness is all lost beneath the cloak of creamy yolks and buttery onions. It’s a particularly satisfying meal on a cold night, a warming end to a long day. Or year, as the case may be.

Eggs in a Nest
I found this idea in Barbara Kingsolver’s book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, the informational and interesting story of her family’s move to a farm and conversion to locally grown food; you can find more recipes and information on the book’s website. It’s a great read, particularly if you’re interested in how we eat affects the world around us, and one of my favorite parts is that Kingsolver’s college-aged daughter, Camille, contributes recipes and meal plans at the end of each chapter. This recipe is an adaptation of her version.
1 large bunch Swiss chard, or other leafy green
1 large, or 2 small sweet yellow onions, coarsely chopped
1 T. olive oil
1 T. butter
3 cloves garlic
Coarse salt and cracked pepper
6 eggs
1-2 tablespoons heavy cream (optional)

Remove the stems from the chard leaves and wash all very, very well. Wrap the leaves in dishtowels to dry and set aside.

In a large skillet, heat the oil and butter together over medium. Chop the onions and chard stems into pieces roughly the same size, and dump into the skillet. Stir occasionally, but let them cook until the onions are brown and very, very soft, about 20 minutes. In my opinion, the flavor of the dish comes from well-caramelized onions, so don’t skimp on the time here; if you need longer, say because you’re bathing a baby or something, you can always reduce the heat and let them continue to get all golden and yummy. They’re pretty forgiving as long as the heat isn’t high enough to scorch them.

While the onions are cooking, roughly chop the chard leaves; I like to roll them into long skinny cylinders and slice them into thin ribbons, but whatever works for you.
Once the onions turn brown, season with salt and pepper, and add the garlic. Cook for another minute or two and dump in the leaves. Stir to coat with the onion mixture until the leaves are wilted. Turn the heat down to medium-low.
Make six depressions in the greens, each large enough to hold an egg. Carefully break an egg into each depression, making sure to keep the yolks in tact. Spoon a tiny amount of cream over each egg. Cover and cook the eggs for 4-6 minutes, depending on the size of your eggs and how well-done you like your yolks. When done, sprinkle a little coarse salt over all. We like to serve ours with biscuits or hearty whole grain toast.

If anyone is still out there checking in from time to time, I wish you and yours a full and happy 2009. Thank you for bearing with me as life has swept me away from this space for longer and longer periods of time; it means a lot when I hear from one of you to know that a recipe has been useful or that you’re visiting for the first time. I hope you and I both will have many reasons to return this year.

Yes, that’s snow! In southern Louisiana!

Hey everybody. Happy New Year. Really, I mean that; I hope you won’t interpret my post title as an anti-New Year sentiment.

Because I actually love the idea of starting off the first day of the first month of a new year by looking ahead, thinking through goals I’d like to accomplish, dreaming about possible plans I’d like to make, anticipating what the future holds with ambition and hope and optimism.

But, for me, the looking back is more important, if only because it colors the lenses through which I see my future with a tint of needed realism. Glancing back over the past 12 months to see where I’ve been, what I’ve done, and how I’ve spent my time reveals that if I learned anything in 2007, it is that I absolutely cannot predict what my life will look like under any given circumstance.

For instance, everyone says that having a baby changes everything. But, I found, until you have one yourself, living under your roof, occupying space in your routine, working her way into every second of every one of your days, you absolutely cannot imagine how those changes will affect you personally. Yes, it is a universal truth that babies change your life. So many people told me that. But I think it might also be true that how a baby changes each person’s life is remarkably different, uniquely tailored to each individual parent and each individual baby. And no one told me that part. For, in January of 2007, when I looked ahead to May and tried to picture our life with a baby, I could not possibly have imagined the reality of Josie in all her Josie-ness. Perhaps that’s why we are almost forced to speak of parenting in cliches, because the experience, with its ever-nuanced individualism, evades articulation.

And still, here I am, trying to articulate what it has meant to be a mom, or more precisely, what it has meant for me to be a mother to this one little baby girl named Josie.

And that is perhaps the most surprising thing to me of all: that in the midst of the busiest I have ever been, I feel compelled to carve out at least a few moments here and there to get into my kitchen and make something and to return to this little space and write about it. Mostly about the food, but also, as it is impossible for me to separate food from how I understand myself, about how I am making sense of my life in these busy days. I may not be the most regular of bloggers, (here is where I am not promising to do better because who knows if that will be possible or not?), or the most consistent of commenters on other blogs (here is where I tell you that I would so, so like to promise to do better because I really do read lots and lots of your blogs when I find the time, but almost always it is after the commenting conversations are long over), or the most reliable of responders to the very nice comments left here (and here I am having to use every ounce of self-control I can muster not to promise, but just to say that I am making a concerted effort to do better on this front, to jump into the comment conversation, even if a few days late, even if just to say, “Hey Everybody, thanks for saying you were here. It really does mean a lot, and it is rude of me not to say so.”). But I am so very grateful for every one of you who take the time to read the words I put out there, to try the recipes I bring you, and especially to communicate with me about what you’ve read or tried.

My gratitude is really all I feel capable of promising at the beginning of this year, as I hate the thought of making promises I won’t be able to keep. We all have to start somewhere, though, and one could do worse than committing to feel thankful.

Now, it seems I promised you an egg white recipe.

If you made the orange butter cookies, you will find yourself with 4 lonely egg whites with nowhere to go. I hate to see much of anything go to waste, but especially egg whites, because it is so easy to whip them into something lovely. Like a meringue. If you have a pie to top, you can certainly make meringue for that purpose, but I like to make little meringue shells to have an easy dessert on hand for dinner guests. Once the meringues are baked, slice some strawberries, or top with a dollop of lemon curd or bittersweet chocolate, and you have a gorgeous presentation in a snap. They look like little pillows of cloud or piles of snow, and they crunch with the bite of sugar without any heaviness — almost like sweetened air, concentrated into a crispy white case. They won’t be the most complicated dessert on the table, but with the right filling, they can be quite pretty (unfortunately, I don’t have a photo of a filled one because all of mine got eaten.) At least you’ll have turned leftover egg whites into something pretty and sweet, a sort of blank canvas to fill as you like. Sort of like a new year. I won’t make any promises about what yours will turn out to be like, but here’s hoping it’s filled with many good things. Happy 2008, everyone!

Meringue Shells

–adapted from The All New Joy of Cooking

The one rule for making meringues is not to step away from the mixer. The texture changes quickly, and you don’t want to miss the right time to add the sugar or stop beating. I also have had better luck with the crispy texture I like on cold, dry days, which is perhaps why I always end up making meringues in winter. They will keep in an airtight container for about a week before they lose their crunch. My favorite way to serve them is by filling the cavity with sliced strawberries, drizzling a little strawberry jam on top, and finishing with a spoonful of plain whipped cream, but fill with whatever strikes your fancy. They are versatile enough to handle a lot of variations, just be careful with overly sweet fillings — the meringues themselves provide most of the sweetener you’ll need.

1/2 cup egg whites (the 4 whites from my 4 large eggs measured exactly 1/2 cup)
1/2 teaspoon cream of tartar
1 cup granulated sugar, whirred in the food processor for a couple of minutes
Preheat your oven to 225 degrees. Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper or silicone mats.

In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with a whisk, beat the egg whites and cream of tartar on medium speed, until soft peaks form and the whites are all foamy, like this:

Now, turn your mixer to high, and sprinkle in the sugar, a tablespoon at a time, very gradually, until the mixture holds stiff peaks and becomes very shiny, like this:

Now, spoon out puffs of meringue onto the baking sheet, carving out a hollow with the back of your spoon, so the shells look like this:

Bake for 1 1/2 to 2 hours, depending on how you like the texture. David likes his to be soft in the center still, sort of marshmallowy, so I tend to take them out after 1 1/2 hours. If you want them very crispy all the way through, leave them for the full 2 hours. You can also turn the oven off and leave them in there to cool and dry out even more. This recipe will make about a dozen fist-sized shells. They will keep in an airtight container for at least a week, longer if it’s cold and dry outside (at least in my experience).

I love the idea of fancy breakfast food. Using my culinary prowess to whip up something innovative and delicious first thing in the morning sounds like something I would love — trading pajamas for an apron and wielding a wooden spoon to whip up a luxurious first meal, beginning the day with a jolt to both my creativity and my palate. A fabulous idea, in theory. Here in my real life, however, the one where mornings revolve around a hungry baby, on the days I am home, I am lucky to get a shower and dress before David leaves for the day; on the days I teach, I do well to make it out the door with two of the same shoes on my feet. For all of these reasons, during our harried weekdays, David is usually the one in charge of finding morning fare for us to eat. Don’t get me wrong, David is great with eggs: scrambled or fried, he knows how to treat them. He also makes fabulous homemade biscuits on occasion. Our standard weekday meals, however, include oatmeal or plain yogurt, jam, and granola. All of these options serve the purpose of kick-starting our metabolisms with fairly healthy calories; utilitarian, perhaps, but these meals taste good and give us fuel to dive into the day. Breakfast does its daily job.

But sometimes I crave more decadent breakfast food, the stuff of brunch menus and country inns. It’s the lack of variety, I think, that gets to me: we eat the same three or four combinations of foods every, single day, and occasionally, I long for something different. Something dressier. Something I might serve if I were to have guests over at 11 in the morning. To satisfy those cravings, we’ve sort of fallen into the tradition of having more brunch-ish food for lunch on Sundays. We still eat our regular oatmeal or yogurt before church, but for when we get home, I usually plan more exciting breakfast food to fix for our midday meal.

Lately, I’ve been on a savory kick; I love French toast, waffles, and pancakes as much as the next breakfast lush, but recently, I’ve liked my Sunday brunch to fall on the saltier side of sweet. Eggs have a constant presence, usually fried because David does them so well, and their runny yolks add a layer of rich creaminess to whatever they land atop. Last week, it was potato pancakes and some boiled shrimp we had leftover in the fridge. A good combination, to be sure, but it needed something more to fulfill my fanciful brunch demands. Something to dress up the plate a little bit, to bind the disparate elements together. Something like Hollandaise sauce.

Hollandaise sauce is, of course, the key ingredient in the king of brunch food, Eggs Benedict, and is often served over asparagus and sometimes fish. Traditionally, it’s made in a double-boiler, and whisked constantly for proper emulsification. On this particular Sunday in my house, however, it came together quickly in the blender while David fried the eggs and the pancakes finished cooking, a necessary adjustment to prevent one cook smashing the other with his elbows or the unwelcome hurling of expletives as we both crowded over a small stove in a small space. Plus, Josie loves the sound of the blender, and she was sitting on the kitchen counter happily observing while our brunch lunch came together; making the sauce this way helped keep her entertained. The texture of the blender Hollandaise is not quite as thick as that prepared the traditional way, especially immediately after it’s made. But it thickens as it sits, and the flavor is the same tangy, buttery one I had hoped would cloak our potato pancakes and shrimp with its velvety yellow vibrancy.

Yes, it’s a lot of butter, and yes, it takes egg yolks to thicken it; yes, it’s rich and full of fat and calories. But it’s sauce, an accoutrement, an extra, almost a garnish, so it’s not like we eat a lot at one time. Plus, it’s not like we eat it every day. It’s not like it’s breakfast. Which is precisely why it tastes so good and why I like our little Sunday brunch tradition: breakfast is food to get us through the day; brunch, on the other hand, is food to savor, food to make an occasion out of a day set aside to be a break from the weekday routine. Food that deserves a special sauce once in a while, especially when that sauce almost just happens with a whirl of the blender.

In my humble, breakfast-loving opinion, you could put this sauce on nearly any savory breakfast dish and have yourself a celebration on a plate. Just don’t remind me how easy it is, or I might just whip some up on a Tuesday morning. And then I would have to call it breakfast, which it most certainly is not.

Blender Hollandaise Sauce

1 stick (1/2 cup) butter
3 egg yolks
Juice of 1 large lemon (about 2 T.)
1/4 t. coarse salt
1/8 t. cayenne pepper

Melt the butter in a glass measuring cup in the microwave, and have it handy. In the blender, combine the other ingredients until well-combined. With the motor running, pour in the melted butter slowly (as you would oil for mayonnaise), to emulsify (to bind the oil and the acid, in other words). Pour into a serving dish and let it stand for a few minutes. Drizzle as your heart desires.
The sauce will keep in the refrigerator for a few days; just rewarm gently before serving. This recipe makes about a cup of sauce.

–From Southern Sideboards, Junior League of Jackson, Mississippi

I love Sundays. A day of rest is such a fabulous idea, really. Especially in the hubbub of daily chaos that is our current culture, purposeful slowing down is a good, good thing.

Want to know one of the best side benefits of having a baby? You are forced, for a time, to take life slowly. To curb your daily obligations in favor of tending to the basic needs of an infant is to live, for all intents and purposes, in a season of Sundays. If the baby wakes early, you feed her. When she needs to go back to sleep, you crawl into bed and sleep right along with her. If she falls asleep in the hammock on your chest, you close your eyes and drift off for a few minutes too. You don’t stray far from home, venturing out a few places now and again just to stretch your legs and make sure you are still able to interact with the outside world, but for the most part, you curl up in your cozy nest and you hibernate with your young.

Now, of course I realize that not everyone with a newborn would consider the first few months of a baby’s life to be exactly restful. And moms of more than one child, of course, probably never rest with a new baby around. But, as luck would have it, my little one apparently came into the world understanding that her busy parents were in dire need of slower paced days.

What that has meant for our eating habits is that we sometimes dine at seemingly random times, lunch at 3:00 in the afternoon after Josie has gone down for a long nap, dinner occasionally after 9 because that’s when she’s gone to bed for the night, etc. Out the window too are traditional notions of what to eat when: breakfast food, for instance, appears on our table at all hours.

Especially eggs. In the category of quick meals that provide maximum nutritional value for the preparation time involved, eggs rank high on my list. Particularly for those of us who eat meat infrequently (or not at all), eggs provide a highly valuable source of protein, which my body has craved since I’ve been breastfeeding.
Plus, I happen to be married to a man who prepares consistently perfect fried eggs exactly as I like them.

Recently, my friend Jessica and her husband acquired three lovely chickens, named Olive, Kiwi, and Sunny, and they brought us some of their eggs. If you’ve never had fresh eggs, the difference in taste, color, and general consistency from the standard supermarket ones is remarkable, especially when the egg is the center of attention.

For one of our many late nights of breakfast-for-dinner, I put David to work frying the eggs Jessica brought, while I whipped up mushroom duxelles, a fragrant paste of mushrooms, shallots, and a smidgen of cream and sherry. We each laid our contributions atop slices of toasted homemade honey whole wheat bread, sprinkled the whole mess with chives from the garden, and sat down to a rich and earthy dinner put together in less than an hour.

Now, could we spend more time preparing our meals? Of course, and we sometimes do. But we also like the option of eating well with a minimum amount of fuss — not because we’re too busy or too tired. Rather, we are content to enjoy the rest this season of life is affording us, and while there are times that part of that enjoyment means dawdling in the kitchen for hours at a time when Josie is napping, there are just as many times that I would just as soon curl up beside her and listen to her breathe, leaving dinner to be worried about later. Either way, it is still possible to eat healthy and delicious food — which a body needs to rest properly, after all.

Mushroom Duxelles with Fried Eggs on Toast

To prepare the duxelles, I consulted two sources: Julia Child for authenticity and The Joy of Cooking for a slightly updated version. Both have strict instructions for squeezing all of the liquid out of your mushrooms before cooking them, and if you want a true paste, you should not skip this step. I was not so concerned with the consistency, so I pressed as much liquid out of the food-processed mixture as I could (through a mesh sieve), but I didn’t spend too much time squeezing the mushrooms in a towel, as both books suggest.

For the duxelles:

Half a pound (or 2 cups) of mushrooms (I used a mixture of baby portabellos and cremini)
3 T. butter
1 shallot, minced
1 T. sherry (optional, but highly recommended)
2 T. heavy cream
Sea salt, to taste

Mince the mushrooms in a food processor with a steel blade as finely as possible. Dump the mixture into a fine mesh sieve and press out the liquid, being careful not to lose any of the mushroom bits. Meanwhile, heat the butter over medium heat and add the shallots. Saute until translucent but not brown and add mushroom mixture. Cook, stirring, until the mushrooms are brown and fragrant and the skillet is almost dry. Sprinkle with salt. Turn up the heat to medium-high and stir in the sherry. Stir and cook until it evaporates, then add cream and turn the heat down to medium-low. Continue to cook and stir until the mixture has absorbed the cream and is a thick, brown paste. Taste and salt as needed.

For the toast and eggs for two:

Toast 2 thick slices of toast and butter lightly. Lay each slice on a plate. Spread some of the mushroom duxelles on each slice of bread. Fry 4 eggs (or 2, if you only want one per serving), and lay 2 eggs on top of each piece of toast. Top with more mushrooms and sprinkle with fresh chives (or other herb — rosemary or thyme would be nice too) and coarse salt. Serve immediately.

The leftover duxelles can be used any number of ways: filling for a calzone or an omelet, base for a pizza, or spread for foccacia bread. One morning we mixed it in with scrambled eggs and pesto, and that worked too. It will keep in the fridge for a couple of weeks.

This super-fast dinner was inspired by a post by Barbara at Tigers & Strawberries (who just gave birth to a gorgeous baby girl!) about using leftovers for breakfast. I read somewhere recently (and in true mid-semester fashion, can’t remember for the life of me where) that a hash is typically a meal made from leftover potatoes. Which certainly makes sense to anyone who’s every tried to make hash browns with raw potatoes: it can take forever. In light of my recent fascination with using up leftovers, the specifics of this dish were inspired by a ziploc bag full of sweet potatoes roasted the night before and a hankering for breakfast at dinner time (which strikes often, since I love breakfast food, but am not much of a morning cook).

Everything for this meal happens in one skillet, which my clean-up crew appreciates, and the salad greens give this old-fashioned high-fat breakfast more healthful clothing for dinner. I love the way the runny egg yolk becomes part of the dressing; once everything on this plate is all mixed up, each bite is packed with a zingy mixture of flavors. Next time, I’ll use spinach arugula instead of Romaine.

The recipe follows this week’s menu (I need a new dry-erase marker; sorry if it’s hard to read!).

Sweet Potato Hash Salad

4 slices thick bacon
1 cup cooked, chopped sweet potatoes
1 T. Dijon mustard
1 T. cane syrup (honey would also work)
2 T. cider vinegar
Two platefuls of salad greens
2 eggs

Cook bacon slices in a skillet until cooked to desire crispness. Remove and drain off all but about a teaspoon of the fat. Add the sweet potatoes to the skillet, and toss gently, browning as you cook.

Meanwhile, line two plates with the salad greens.

When the potatoes are fairly evenly browned, add the mustard and syrup and stir to mix well. Add the vinegar, stirring constantly, until all ingredients are well-incorporated. Divide the sweet potato mixture between the two plates.

Return the skillet to the heat, and fry two eggs, topping each plate with one of them. Finish each plate with two slices of the reserved bacon.

To eat, mix everything on the plate together thoroughly.

My husband has been so supportive since I’ve been in school. He’s indulged my study-break cooking frenzies, patiently cleaning up my messes and dutifully tasting every test recipe; he’s done an awful lot of laundry and cleaning of the bathroom; and he  rarely every complains. The job I’ve been reluctant to give up, of course, is the making of our dinners. David is completely competent and capable in the kitchen, so it isn’t that I don’t trust him to do it (though he gladly would), it’s just that for me, somehow, making dinner every night is the one chore that keeps me sane, that helps me to feel like a normal person whose life is not completely chaotic. It brings order to an otherwise out-of-control schedule.

But some nights I just don’t have it in me. And now that David is a full-time student too, our schedule has become even more unorthodox. Dinner, for example, on Wednesday nights is served promptly at 10 p.m., when David gets home from class. For the nights when I have so much to do before the morning that I can’t think how to fit in cooking dinner too, rather than turn to take-out (which we try hard not to do), I turn over the kitchen to David.

He has a couple of standard classic recipes that are his specialties, and I’m hoping to introduce you to most of them, one at a time. You’ve already become acquainted with his famous roast chicken. Number 2 on the list of his favorite things to make is carbonara. He first learned to make it in Italy (which he will tell you about in a moment), and he’s been fixing this hearty comfort food for me almost as long as I’ve known him.

Most people who make carbonara feel pretty strongly about their way of doing it, and David is no exception. But if you’re stuck in the kitchen at 5:30 without any clue about what to make for dinner, and you happen to have eggs, bacon, noodles, and some Parmesan cheese, this meal comes together in less than half an hour. Low-calorie, it is not, but what it lacks in nutritional value, it makes up for in taste. Certainly, we would not eat a meal like this every night (and usually when we plan on carbonara, I try to limit the fat content of the rest of our meals), but for nights when we’re busy and we need sustenance, this hits the spot.

Here are David’s unedited instructions. I quote word-for-word from the cook:
1. Boil water. Insert 1 pound noodles. (Note from Jennifer: Usually, we use the traditional fettucine, but this night we only had rigatoni, and we actually prefer it. The ridges hold the eggy sauce quite nicely.)

2. Get out: 3 eggs, bacon, Parmesan cheese.

3. In a bowl, whisk 3 eggs with 1/4 cup cream (or whole milk) and salt and pepper. Not tons of salt–the bacon and cheese are also salty. But pepper: use as much pepper as your wife will let you get away with.

4. Cook some bacon. If you like a lot of bacon, cook a lot. If you’re trying to be healthier, or you don’t like a lot of bacon, not so much. Completely up to you. (Note from Jennifer: chances are, if you’re trying to be healthy, you aren’t making carbonara. But who knows?)

5. Grate fresh Parmesan. A lot. You can never have enough. Not-fresh Parmesan is a Republican plot to make us all lazy and compliant. Have you seen Kraft’s political platform?

6. Think about Italy while you grate the cheese and wait for the noodles and bacon to cook. If you like, I will tell you the story of how I learned to make this. I once went to Italy with a group of artists. We had carbonara at this fabulous restaurant, and as we were lamenting the fact that you can’t get carbonara like that anywhere in Mississippi (because we were all from Mississippi), a member of our party — Father Canonici, a lovely old priest with deep Italian roots — shared this recipe with us. You know, the one I’m giving to you now in such specific detail. What can I say, I didn’t write it down, and my memory is fuzzy. What I do know is that you should never, ever put peas in carbonara.

7. Weird how this is so good with no garlic. (Note from Jennifer: I don’t know what this has to do with anything, but I was instructed to take it down. Remember: not my words!)
8. Make sure the bacon is cooked to a nice crispy texture. I don’t really like crispy bacon (a common source of contention at our house), but it works with the carbonara to keep things from getting all clumpy.

9. Keep a close eye on the noodles; you don’t want them overdone.

10. Drain the noodles.

11. Dump the noodles back into the pot.

12. Pour the egg-cream mixture on top of the still-hot noodles. Now, this is the important part. You want to mix it up so that the heat of the noodles will start to firm up the eggs a bit before returning the pot to the burner. You do this for two reasons: 1. You want the noodles to get nicely coated before the eggs get too done. 2. It will be easier to clean the pot when you’re done because there won’t be as much egg stuck to the bottom of the pan. This was learned the hard way.

13. Once the eggs have begun to stick to the noodles, return the pot to a low heat. Stir gently and constantly (keep in mind: the more you stir, the less scrubbing you’ll have to do after dinner).

14. Now is the time to sneak in more pepper when your wife isn’t looking.

15. Crumble the bacon. We do it with kitchen scissors because the bacon is still very hot.

16. After cooking and stirring for 5 minutes or so, add the cheese. You don’t want to add the cheese too early, or it will get lost.

17. Keep stirring. Check to make sure you aren’t getting cheese clumps all over your spoon.

18. Finally, now everything will start to come together and you can add the bacon at last.

19. Adding the bacon is sort of like when you’re making muffins and you don’t want to overmix your wet and dry ingredients. Fold gently. If you mix too much, it will all end up on the bottom.

20. Serve immediately.

21. When you’ve served up what you plan to eat tonight, immediately put the leftovers in a different container so you can start soaking the pot. Believe me, you’ll be glad later.

22. Talk about Italy while you eat.

There you have it, David’s words on carbonara. Enjoy!

Before Hurricane Katrina, the Mississippi Gulf Coast was known for its pallatial beachfront homes. At the end of one particular drive lined with a towering plot of regal old oaks, gracefully wearing their age in their stature and in the silver locks of Spanish moss dripping from their branches, lay a sprawling white bed and breakfast called Green Oaks.

My first job out of college, as the editor of a small, regional magazine, took me to Green Oaks with my friend and co-worker, Lori, many summers ago. For a special issue on the Coast, we stayed for a few days, attending the blessing of the fleet, a tradition that marks the beginning of shrimping season, wandering around the maritime museum, and eating and photographing some fabulous food. The afternoon we first arrived, after we’d made our way up the winding front stairs, the hostess showed us to our room and then on to the front porch, where aging rocking chairs, a lazy yellow cat named Bill Clinton, and a tray of mint juleps and cucumber sandwiches awaited.

Truth be told, I could have spent the next several days in that rocking chair, listening to the ocean and taking in the warm, salty breeze. I recently opened the issue of the magazine that resulted from that trip, and I could almost smell the heavy, sea-tinged air.
Looking through those stories and photographs now was so strange–like reading about somewhere far away–because so much of what we experienced is no longer there.

My favorite meal we ate was the breakfast the hostess of Green Oaks prepared the morning we were leaving: a soupy bed of red pepper cream sauce, a crispy fried green tomato, and a soft, poached egg, topped with a smattering of fresh, lump crabmeat.

For Memorial Day weekend this year, I tried to recreate that memorable Green Oaks breakfast.

The lovely Green Oaks and its surrounding community may have to be rebuilt from the ground up, but the rich culinary heritage of that coastal region remains. The next time you make crab cakes, I urge you to reserve a couple of tablespoons of the crab meat and try this dish. If you close your eyes really tightly and take a deep breath, you might just be able to smell the salty Gulf air. And if not, I promise you’ll be able to taste it.

Eggs Green Oaks

For the fried green tomatoes:
1 cup flour
1/2 cup corn meal
1 T. Tony Chacheres (or other Cajun seasoning)
1/2 cup milk
2 eggs
Buttermilk, to soak the tomatoes
3 green tomatoes
1 cup canola oil
Slice the tomatoes into thick rounds. Salt and pepper; soak in the buttermilk while you prepare the batter and the oil. Mix the flour, corn meal, and the seasoning on a plate. Whisk together the milk and eggs. Heat the oil in a skillet over medium-high heat. When the oil is hot (and not before! A drop of water should sizzle immediately), dip the tomato slices in the egg-milk mixture and then dredge in the seasoned flour. Fry until golden brown, about 5-7 minutes per side. Drain on paper towels and keep warm.

For the spicy cream sauce:
1/2 cup chopped sweet onion
1 jalapeno pepper, chopped finely
1/4 cup butter
1/4 teaspoon Seasoned Salt
Juice of 1 lemon
2 T. half and half
1/4 cup fresh, lump crab meat
Melt the butter in a small saucepan over medium-low. Add the pepper and onion and cook until soft, about 6-8 minutes. Season with the seasoned salt, and add the lemon juice and cream. Cook until all is combined; cover and keep warm. Add the crab meat and stir gently, just before serving. You want it to just be warm.

For the eggs:
1 egg per person
Olive oil
You can poach the eggs if you prefer; I fried them for my husband, who loves them that way. Heat about a half-inch of olive oil in a skillet. Break the egg into the skillet (you can use a cookie cutter if you want it to be a particular shape, as I did; just make sure you grease the sides of the cookie cutter!). Spoon the hot oil on top of the egg as it fries; cook until the white begins to congeal, or until it reaches your desired doneness. To assemble: Spoon some cream sauce onto each plate, reserving the crab meat. Place two slices of fried green tomato in the center and top with an egg. Spoon the rest of the cream sauce over the egg and the tomatoes and scatter the crab meat over the plate. Garnish with paprika if you prefer. Eat immediately.

This recipe was inspired by Jennifer Diaz, former owner of Green Oaks bed and breakfast.

Dinners borne out of a near-empty fridge and the end-of-the day exhaustion sometimes turn out to be a disaster. I’ve been known to throw all sorts of things into an omelet or a quesadilla or onto a pizza crust, and the results are not always as, well, as edible as I would like. Tuesdays often turn out to be the days that such disasters occur because it’s late when I get home, I’ve been in class all day, and even if I’ve planned a meal for the night, I often just don’t have the energy to go through with it.

This meal is the result of exactly those circumstances; I don’t remember what we were supposed to have, but I wanted something super fast with ingredients I had on hand. The next time you find yourself staring into your refrigerator, wondering what to make in less than 30 minutes, here’s a recipe I highly recommend. If you have: tortillas, eggs, and either a jar of pre-made salsa or a can of tomatoes and a pepper and an onion, you’re in great shape. If you have cheese, and some bacon and grits, even better. Here’s what I had in my kitchen and how it came together for a fast, satisfying dinner:

Super-Fast Breakfast Tortilla Supper

(these proportions are not exact, but that’s the beauty of super-fast cooking–no measuring!)

Tortillas

Eggs for scrambling (I had 4)

Milk (a tablespoon or so?)

Cumin

Chili powder

A yellow onion, diced (you may not need the whole thing)

Cheese of some sort (I used cheddar)

A jalapeno, sliced (seeded if you’re sensitive to spicy food)

Diced tomatoes (I used a 14-ounce can, drained)

Note: I started the grits and bacon in the microwave before cooking the eggs, so that everything would be ready at the same time.

Beat the eggs and milk and season with cumin and chili (I like the flavors, so I used a teaspoonful of both). Salt and pepper too, and set aside. Heat some olive oil in a frying pan over medium heat. Add half of the onion. (Note: if you have salsa already made, you can skip down to scrambling the eggs). Add the jalapeno, and cook until both are very soft. Add the tomatoes, and season with cumin and chili. Remove from the skillet and set aside. Add the rest of the onion (if you’ve got salsa, you pick up here). Cook until soft, and then add the eggs, scrambling them until they’re cooked as you like. Remove to a plate. Add more oil to the skillet and lay a tortilla flat. Spread the surface with grated cheese. When the cheese begins to melt, spoon eggs down the center of the tortilla. Top with salsa, and fold the sides up and over the eggs. Cook for a minute more, and remove to plate. Repeat until you have enough tortillas for everyone (if you’re cooking for several people, keep the cooked ones warm in the microwave). Top with more salsa, and serve with grits and bacon if you’ve got them. Start to finish: about 20 minutes, and it would have gone faster if I’d had salsa already made!

I love breakfast food. Unfortunately, I am not naturally much of a morning person. So, often when I want eggs and muffins, I have to have them at night, instead of in the morning. My mom used to fix omelets and blueberry muffins for dinner, and so serving traditional breakfast foods when it’s dark outside reminds me of her. She is much better at flipping omelets and getting them to look pretty than I am; my omelets always end up looking a lot like scrambled eggs with other stuff in them. So, to use up leftovers, I like to make frittatas instead. No flipping, and finishing it under the broiler gives the cheese on top a bubbly brown texture that I really like. This one, inspired by my leftover spinach stuffing from the stuffed tomatoes last week, is quick and easy. You can make a frittata with just about anything. The basic recipe is: sauté some vegetables in a heavy oven-proof skillet, top with beaten eggs and cheese, cook until the eggs begin to set around the edges, top with more cheese, and finish under the broiler. The muffins I made to go with the frittata are sweet and crumbly, as good muffins should be. I made them with sugary, crunchy Asian pears from Miller Farms at the Red Stick Market. The frittata cooks quickly, so I prepare the muffins first, and use the time while the muffins are cooking to chop the vegetables and beat the eggs for the frittata.

Pear-Streusel Muffins

2 cups flour

1 cup sugar

1 T. baking powder

½ t. baking soda

1 t. cinnamon

½ t. allspice

2 large eggs

½ stick butter, melted

1 cup buttermilk

1 ½ cups chopped pear

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Mix all of the dry ingredients in a large bowl. Beat together the eggs, butter, and buttermilk. Fold the wet ingredients into the dry; stir until just combined. Add the chopped pears and stir to distribute evenly. Spoon the batter into a greased muffin tin.

For topping:

1 cup chopped walnuts; reserve half to sprinkle on the tops

4 T. flour

4 T. brown sugar

½ stick butter, softened

½ t. cinnamon

Mix all together with your hands until it forms a paste. Top the muffin batter with the streusel topping, and then sprinkle on the reserved walnuts. Bake for about 20 minutes, until the topping is brown and crumbly.

While the muffins are cooking, you can prep your vegetables and get everything ready for the frittata. When the muffins are done, turn the broiler on to preheat.

Spinach-Mushroom Frittata

1 clove garlic, minced

½ yellow onion, thinly sliced

1 cup sliced mushrooms

2-3 T. leftover spinach filling (optional)

1 cup fresh spinach leaves, chopped

4 eggs

½ cup milk

½ cup feta cheese, crumbled

1 cup mild grated cheese of your choice (I used Swiss)

Sauté the garlic, onion, and mushrooms over medium-high heat in an oven-proof skillet (I use a cast-iron one) until tender, about 6 minutes. Stir frequently to make sure garlic doesn’t burn. Add the spinach filling and stir to coat the vegetables; cook another minute or two. Turn the heat down to medium-low, and add the spinach leaves, cooking until wilted. Meanwhile, beat the eggs, milk, and feta cheese together; pour over mushrooms and spinach. Salt and pepper well, but don’t stir. Let the eggs cook slowly until the edges begin to set, about 12-15 minutes. Grate cheese on top, and finish under the broiler; watch carefully, as it only takes a minute or two.

One of the great things about this meal is that leftovers can be enjoyed both in the morning and at night! I like to have the muffins with my afternoon coffee, as well.