GrEggs

What do you call this:

Last July we were out at our friends' house in Montauk, and my friend Amy was making breakfast: a piece of bread with a circle cut out in the middle, down on the griddle and an egg cracked into the hole. 

When I was growing up, this was called "egg in a frame." I wondered what other people called it. So, as is my wont, I went on to Facebook and put up my status:

Well the commentary started flying in and it turned into a very fun conversation about this breakfast dish.

This morning I wanted to make egg in a frame for breakfast and I was remembering that Facebook post and wishing I could get back to it. In fact I was wishing I could somehow export ALL of my Facebook history because there's a lot of material in there that would be extremely useful on this blog.

Long story short, my friend Gregg showed me how it could be done. For which he will not only get my cornbread, but the dish formerly known as "egg in a frame" will hereby and forevermore be known as "GrEggs."

After filtering out the snark and smartass from the comment thread, and compiling the data, here's how else the dish is known:

Best Brownies

“It often seems that the world divides (evenly or unevenly) into those who are waiting for dessert and those who have to produce it.”
— Laurie Colwin, More Home Cooking, "Waiting for Dessert"

I'm the latter. And I dug my own grave on this one because over the years I seem to have built one of those households where there's always a little something-something for "Afters" and my kids have completely railroaded me. They not only ask for something-something after dinner, they ask, "What's for dessert?" after lunch!

I had to put my foot down on the tracks and made it an either-or situation.  If you want cake after lunch, you're not getting cake after dinner, too. And if you want any cake at all, after any mealtime, that plate better be empty, buster. Very often, in response to the $1,000,000 question, I'll hand a child an apple or orange, accompanied by "Take it or leave it, kid."

Mostly it's cookies that appear for dessert, and usually Trader Joe-Joes. I'm not a regular cookie baker outside of the holiday season. When I get a hankering to bake, it's usually brownies or cake.

I don't like cakey brownies, I like them to be sort of undercooked and "squidgy" in the center, with that fabulous light-brown crackly surface. Frosting has no business on a brownie, in my opinion, the brownie should be able to stand alone. 

In my further opinion, the only brownie recipe I need is Martha Stewart's, which I got out of her book Favorite Comfort Food. By the way, right under the brownie recipe on page 136 is a recipe for Root Beer Float. No lie. This continually amuses me and annoys me as only Martha Stewart's cookbooks can do. A recipe for root beer float. Honestly, does someone actually need direction for pouring soda over ice cream?

But this brownie recipe is divine, the only one I need, the one I passed up to my mother, and the one I will pass down to my children and grandchildren.

Martha Stewart's Brownies

  • 1 1/2 sticks unsalted butter (Butter, say it with me. Butter. BUTTAH!!!! And yes, do bake with unsalted butter)
  • 8 oz bittersweet baker's chocolate. The original recipe says 8 oz bittersweet, however my mother experimented and found that 6 oz of bittersweet and 2 oz of unsweetened chocolate make a truly superior and mature brownie. I wholeheartedly agreed until the day I had only 4 oz of bittersweet and 4 oz of unsweetened. I plunged ahead and found this 50/50 combination made the ultimate brownie.
  • 4 large eggs
  • 1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
  • 1/2 cup packed dark brown sugar
  • 1 tablespoon vanilla
  • 1 1/3 cup flour
  • 1/2 tsp salt

Heat oven to 350. Grease 9 x 13 baking pan, or spray with Pam.

Set a heat-proof bowlover simmering water. Put the chocolate and butter into the bowl and melt until smooth, stirring occasionally. Remove from heat and allow to cool. (You must let it cool because if you stir hot chocolate into your egg mixture, you will have chocolate-scrambled-egg mixture and you will have failed.)

In a small bowl, stir flour and salt together, set aside.  In a large mixing bowl, combine eggs, sugars and vanilla, beat well with a whisk.

Add cooled chocolate to egg mixture, whisk until combined.  Slowly add the flour mixture, beat until combined.

Pour batter into pan, bake for 30 minutes.  Let cool for as long as the masses can stand it.  Cut into squares, making sure you get at least one corner piece.  Serve.  Die.

The Misadventures of David Crockpott

I know, I know, this thing with naming my appliances is truly weird. But after three days in the box, Dave has been broken out and put to use. What was the flagship dish?

Slow-Cooked Chicken and Vegetables, à la I Have No Freakin' Clue

I picked this dish because 1) I had all this chicken left over from when I'd made chicken chili on Sunday; and 2) I had found this selection of totally adorable baby carrots at DeCicco's. I mean, look at them, aren't they swell? 

I'm something of a carrot connoisseur. I grow tons of them in my garden and in all different colors. I was thrilled to find these. DeCicco's so has my number.

Besides the carrots, I had in the fridge some dubious-looking celery (is there any other kind?) and portobello mushrooms. In the pantry was a head of garlic and half a bag of Trader Joe's red, white and blue baby potatoes. In the freezer was a bag of Birds Eye pearl onions. I was in business.

I took a break from working around 10 and got busy.  I prepped all the veggies and fed them to Dave first - half the bag of onions, followed by celery sliced on the diagnol, leaves and all. Mushrooms and potatoes washed and quartered.  Carrots trimmed and peeled. You'll see from the picture that purple carrots are purple through-and-through, while red carrots are only red on the surface; once peeled, they will be orange so either scrub them lightly, or leave a little skin in places to get the effect.

My plan was to add a half cup of white wine and then use chicken broth to just cover the veggies.  But shame on me, no white wine in the house. So I added the juice from one lemon, and then topped it up with broth. I put some thyme and rosemary stems on top, and then sliced 4 cloves of garlic and scattered those on top too.

Then the chicken.  I had boneless, skinless breast and thigh pieces.  I put the thighs on top of the veggies as is, then quartered each breast and put that in. Then I hesitated...something was needed here...I was totally flying blind, making it up. Salt and pepper, OK, some of each. And...garlic powder?  Paprika? I already had sliced garlic down in the veggies, I didn't want to overdo it. In the end I just tapped the garlic powder and paprika bottles over the chicken, just a light dusting.

(This doesn't end well)

The cover went on, Dave got plugged in. I hit the HIGH setting for 6 hours.  Wait, that can't possibly be right. I did some quick consulting online, and selected LOW for 8 hours instead. Done, done and done. 20 minutes of prep time. I poured another cup of coffee, left the kitchen and went back to work.

I was consumed with curiosity and kept creeping upstairs to see what Dave was doing. After the fourth time, he patiently and politely told me to get lost.

What, your small appliances don't talk to you? Odd...

I managed to get lost for two whole hours, then I went upstairs to poke in there with a wooden spoon. First thing I noticed was a very intense rosemary smell, followed by the observation that the cooking liquid had not only risen considerably, but had turned purple from the carrots. I put the cover back and retreated.

Four hours into cooking, I ventured up again to peek. Not looking good. At all. Quite possibly the most unattractive thing I had ever produced in a kitchen to date. Clearly Dave hated me. Or Wolfie, in a jealous rage, had sabotaged things.

The broth looked like squid ink. The chicken pieces looked dried out. My sweet baby carrots were completely leached of color and the potatoes and mushrooms looked decidedly ill.  The dish looked ill. I was going to be ill. I would have to create a new blog category called "Kitchen Disasters" and this was going to be the first tag. I fled the kitchen, an abject failure.

(I've been taking drama lessons from Pandagirl)

I regrouped and decided that no matter what, the chicken would be salvageable. It would've been poached for eight hours in broth, veggies and aromatics, it ought to be edible, for crying out loud.

At 5:00 I declared it done and pulled the plug.

"What is that?" cried Panda with all the charming couth that ten-year-olds naturally possess.

Boooooo!

Boooooo!

"Army slop," I replied, and fished a piece of dark meat chicken out to taste.  It tasted wonderful. I fished a piece of white meat out. It was slightly less wonderful, but not bad. It didn't taste bad, it just looked bad. In 8 hours I had achieved tender, flavorful meat, pallid vegetables, and some killer, purplish broth.

"Are you going to blog this?" Panda asked.

"I am not only going to blog this," I answered, "I am going to save this."

I started sorting the crockpot. 

(That's the weirdest sentence I ever typed.) 

I picked out the thyme and rosemary stems. I put the chicken in one dish, all the veggies in another. I strained the broth into a clean soup pot. I put it on a medium-low flame, then peeled and sliced six new, normal orange carrots.  When the broth was boiling, the carrots went into the pot along with some of the leftover frozen pearl onions and 1/2 cup of orzo.

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When the pasta was cooked and the carrots were tender, I separated three eggs and slid the yolks into the broth (my dad taught me this; he in turn learned it from the days when his mother's kosher chicken came with unfertilized eggs—the ayelekh—still inside the hen). After the yolks poached I put the chicken back in, some dill, some fresh parsley, some peas.

There you have it, the name of this recipe is now changed to:

Eight Hour Purple Chicken Soup.

Serve it with a $5 milkshake. And then go save your street cred by making dessert.

Nutella Cake

As with so many things in my life, I was woefully late to the Nutella party.  I'd seen it in the store, I knew what it was, sort of. I had "Try Nutella" written on a mental post-it and stuck on a fold of my brain, yeah yeah yeah. But it wasn't until nearly a year ago, when my friend Krista went to Spain and had an unforeseen stopover in London. She posted on Facebook, "Breakfast today was a crepe with strawberries and Nutella." 

Suddenly I woke up, thinking, I am REALLY late to this party!!!

My very next trip to Stop & Shop, I picked up a jar. Back at home, I made toast. I spread Nutella thereupon. I placed a slice in front of my equally ignorant daughter.

"What is this?" she immediately said. 

"Try it," I answered. As is her wont, she picked up the slice of toast and brought it to her nose. Pandagirl has an especially keen sense of smell; her nose is the gateway to her person. Some people examine, some touch, some listen. My daughter sniffs first and asks questions afterward.

She sniffed. Her eyes lit up. She tasted. Meanwhile, over at my end of the counter, I was passing out.

"I can't believe I lived 42 years without ever eating this," I moaned.

"I can't believe you let me live 9 years without eating this!" Panda wailed.

Redman came running into the kitchen. "What? Eat what? What you eating, I want some!"

Lunch that day consisted of Nutella, en variation. We made toast with peanut butter and Nutella. We sliced bananas on top of Nutella on toast.  We put strawberries on Nutella. We put Nutella on banana slices. We dipped pretzels into Nutella. We had a veritable Nutella bacchanal. 

So Nutella now lives in our house in the we-are-professionals 26.5 oz jar. Recently the delicious Stacey put up a recipe for Nutella Cake. Pandagirl pounced on it. So along with chili and cornbread for the Sunday Playoffs, we made this cake:

French Yogurt Cake with Nutella

(From Stacey Snacks, in turn from Rozanne Gold's Radically Simple:  Brilliant Flavors with Breathtaking Ease)

This calls for a 9" springform pan, greased.  I suppose you could use a regular 9" cakepan but after it cools you'd need to invert the cake out onto a plate, and then invert it right-side up again.  Not a big hassle.

  • 1 1/2 cups flour
  • 1 1/2 tsp baking powder
  • large pinch of salt
  • 1 stick of butter, melted
  • 3 eggs
  • 1 tsp vanilla
  • 1 cup sugar
  • 1/2 cup plain Greek yogurt
  • 1/4 cup Nutella

Preheat over to 350, grease a 9" springform pan.

Mix flour, baking powder and salt in a bowl and set aside.

Melt the stick of butter and let cool.

Combine melted butter, sugar, vanilla and eggs and mix well.  Add the yogurt and combine.   Add dry ingredients and mix well.

Pour just 2/3 of the batter into the pan.  You might worry it's not even going to cover the bottom but it will, don't worry.

Add the 1/4 cup of nutella to the remaining cake batter in the bowl and mix together.

Spoon nutella-batter on top of the plain cake batter.  Swirl gently with a rubber spatula to make the pattern.

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Bake for 40-45 minutes.

I served this bare naked because I didn't have anything else in the house to garnish.  Powdered sugar on top would work, as would whipped cream.  [Editor's note-- Swain would like to clarify that the cake was served without any additional garnish, hence the cake was bare naked.  Swain herself was not naked while serving the cake]

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So...you want a good book about cake?  Not a cookbook, I mean a good novel that centers around cake?  Try Eat Cake by Jeanne Ray.  I've loved Jeanne Ray's books for years and only recently found out she is the mother of Ann Patchett (Yes, Bel Canto, that Ann Patchett)!  Talk about late to the party.

In Eat Cake you will meet Ruth, a Minneapolis wife and mother.  When the going gets tough, Ruth bakes.  All she has to do is envision being surrounded by walls of cake and she is calmed.  Up until now she has cooked only for her own comfort, every day, sometimes in the middle of the night.  But first Ruth's husband loses his job; then Ruth's divorced and estranged parents both come to live under her roof.  In dire emotional and financial straits, Ruth's baking comes to the forefront as a means to save not only her sanity, but the family finances as well.

This is such a warm and charming book...just like a piece of cake out of the oven.

Pasta Primavera

It's a balmy 2 degrees in my neck of the woods. And spring is in the air. At least tonight. I couldn't deal with any more meat-based comfort food, I had to lighten up. Something vegetarian and colorful was called for. Like pasta primavera. This is my own recipe, pieced together from this and that over the years. You can have it on the table in 20 minutes.

Pasta Primavera

None of the ingredients are set in stone, you can make it with whatever vegetables you have to hand, but for this version you will use:

  • Orange and red cherry tomatoes
  • 1 small zucchini
  • 2 carrots
  • 1 tub "ciliegine"—small mozzarella cheese balls
  • Pasta of your choice (I had pappardelle in the pantry)
  • 1 bunch asparagus (Last minute swap, I realize spinach is in the picture and then I changed my mind...)
  • 3-4 garlic cloves
  • Pasta of choice

Start your pasta water boiling on the stove. Slice asparagus diagonally into 1-2 inch pieces. With a vegetable peeler, make "ribbons" from the zucchini and carrot. Put all this aside in one bowl, these are your "wet" veggies which will go into the pasta water for the last 3 minutes of cooking time.

In the bowl you will serve in, halve about 40 cherry tomatoes (I did 20 orange, 20 red). Then halve the mozzarella cheese balls. Set aside. Salt your pasta water and add pasta. While it's cooking, chop 3-4 garlic cloves. Add the asparagus, carrot and zucchini ribbons to the boiling water for the last 3 minutes.

Reserve 1 cup of the cooking water and then drain pasta in colander in the sink. Put pot back on stove, add a little olive oil and butter and saute the garlic on medium-low heat for five minutes—don't rush, there's not much that's more nasty than burned garlic. Add the pasta water and then put the pasta and veggies back in the pot. Mix to coat with the sauce and then turn into your serving bowl that's holding the tomatoes and cheese.

Toss well to distribute all the color, add some chopped parsley.  

Serve.  

Die.

This dish is killer when all these vegetables are actually in season. And still pretty damn good in the clutches of a particularly brutal winter.

Couch Dinner (and, um, Go Jets)

I'm not into sports. I like the occasional baseball game. I totally love the Olympics. The social aspect of getting together to watch the Superbowl is fun. But I'm not really into sports.

So it's playoff night and my husband asked for dinner to be served downstairs in the TV room so he can park and watch both games all evening. No problemo. I was having trouble getting into gear today because we partied pretty late last night (Happy Birthday, Cor!!) It was around 1:00 when Pandagirl and I headed out to food shop.

First stop was Kohl's where I needed to get pajamas for Redman, sweat pants for Panda and...(cough)...something else:

I haven't opened the box yet. I didn't get home from food shopping until 3 so there wasn't time to properly slow-cook something and besides, Wolfie needs time to adjust to the newcomer.

By the way, I was so proud of Pandagirl today as a foodie-in-training. DeCicco's has about twelve cheese-tasting stations scattered through the store and we hit every one. She tried every kind and it really was something to hear her observations from Pecorino to Gouda to Gruyere.

"This is sharp...this is sharp, too, but it's more tangy, it makes the roof of my mouth tingle. This is smooth, wow. I like New York cheddar better than English cheddar..." In the end she picked a little wedge of Pecorino.

So! Home again, home again jiggity-jog. I already had cornbread going in the bread machine and it was about to go into the 1-hour bake cycle. I wanted to make chicken chili which we'd had at my seester-in-law's house over Christmas. She made hers in the slow cooker. I would make mine in Madame Le Creuset.

Oven to 350, Madame on the burner. Olive oil, 1 diced white onion, 1 diced red onion. Saute.

Add 1 2-lb package boneless, skinless chicken thighs, trimmed of excess fat.

Drain and rinse 1 can red kidney beans and 1 can black beans. Add to Madame with 1 16-oz jar of salsa of your choice

Add 1 tablespoon chili pepper, 2 teaspoons ground cumin, a sprig or two of fresh thyme. And 1 square unsweetened baker's chocolate.

You heard me. 1 square baker's unsweetened chocolate. Fine, you don't have to, but you might want to give it a try. True Mexican chili has chocolate. The Aztecs invented it. That's all I'm saying.

Cover Madame and into the oven she goes.Leave her alone for an hour. Don't stir, don't peek, don't bother her. Go about your business, make a cake or something.

After an hour, take Madame out and give it a stir to incorporate the melted chocolate and redistribute the meat.

Cover, return to oven and cook another 1/2 hour or so. Take out, remove the thyme stems and break up the chicken with the side of a wooden spoon. If you wish, add some frozen corn (as with the cornbread recipe, Trader Joe's Roasted Sweet corn is best) and chopped fresh cilantro or parsley.

Serve with shredded cheese, sour cream, cornbread, beers and a football game.

Go Jets.

You Ain't Never Had My Cornbread (Part 1)

I say Part I because this recipe is actually not for MY famous cornbread, but another recipe I tried that goes in the bread machine. It's called "Cinco de Mayo" but I made some changes based on availability and preference—my kids don't go for real spicy things.

Cinco de Mayo Cornbread

Measure ingredients in the order listed into your bread machine's pan.

  • 1 cup warm water
  • 1 tbsp olive oil
  • 1/2 cup whole kernel corn (I only had frozen; I thawed it in a colander in the sink and squeezed it dry)
  • 1/4 canned green chilis, diced (I skipped this)
  • 1 1/2 tsp canned jalapeno peppers, diced (I skipped this)
  • 1/4 tsp lemon juice
  • 3 cups white bread flour
  • 1 1/2 tbsp sugar
  • 1 1/2 tsp salt
  • 3/4 cup corn meal
  • 2 tsp ground cumin
  • 2 shakes of cayenne pepper and pinch red pepper flakes (not in original recipe, I added it)
  • 1 1/2 tsp fast rise yeast (or 2 tsp active dry yeast)

Bake on basic bread cycle.

This was thoroughly OK but I'm going to give it another chance and make a couple changes. First of all, I used generic frozen corn because I had depleted my stash of Trader Joe's roasted sweet corn which, other than Dykeman's corn, is the only corn for me on the planet. And the whole time I was measuring ingredients I was thinking, "I really wish I had Trader Joe's corn." Also, because I omitted the chilies and jalapenos, I think something was mixing from the texture. I might add some diced red bell pepper next time.  I think this has possibilities.

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But you still ain't never had my cornbread. It'll make you wanna run around naked (cause you know it looks good on you)

Stacey and the Roasted Broccoli

Get used to the name Stacey. She is Stacey of StaceySnacksOnline. Her amazing food blog upped my cooking game like nothing else. I had no idea you could do so much with cauliflower, but suddenly I was buying a head every other week and roasting it with red onions and grapes (click it, try it, it's insane). Everything I have made from her blog has been easy and delicious. No strikeouts. So click here for her recipe for roasted shrimp and broccoli. Roasted broccoli, have you tried it? It's killer. Stacey said she made it once for her husband and thereafter he wanted it no other way. I made it once for JP and now we're both addicted. I served the shrimp and broccoli over coconut rice and it was fantastic.

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The very next night, JP asked for roasted broccoli again. So I made it but this time tried it with salmon. We get great boneless salmon steaks from Horizon Foods and I usually broil them and often for too long, resulting in somewhat dry salmon. This time, in following the recipe, the broccoli roasted first for 10 minutes at 425. Then I put the salmon on the hot baking sheet and put it in the oven for five minutes. Perfection. Perfectly perfect salmon, I was so happy. I tried the technique again to make sure it wasn't a fluke but no, it works perfectly. So regardless of the vegetable, here's how salmon goes down at our house:

Preheat oven to 425 with the baking sheet in the oven

Drizzle salmon steaks or fillets with olive oil, brown sugar and dill.

When oven reaches 425, take out tray, put salmon on it, and put back in the oven for 5 minutes.

Serve.

Die.

Pulled Pork: A Novel

My seester Nini has turned me on to slow-cooking in general and pulled pork in particular. I mean, to quote the Contessa, how easy is this: one pork butt, sauce of your choice, cover, leave for 8 hours, come back to indescribable yumminess.

I still don't have a slow cooker. After this grandiose kitchen renovation and the Wolf Stove of my dreams (yes, I love you darling, you complete me) I feel guilty getting a slow-cooker (no, no, Wolfie, not yet, I promise). I'm sure the slow cooker is much more energy efficient BUT ANYWAY, back to the novel...

JP took the kids skiing the other day, and pork butt (can anyone write that with a straight face?) was on sale at Hannaford's. I picked one up, in keeping with this horrible cold weather and snow and all the comfort food I've been making to conquer it. Pulled pork seemed the perfect thing for après-ski

I Googled around for conventional oven techniques and sauce, mixed and matched a little, and came up with this:

Pulled Pork à la Wolfie

  • 1 onion, diced
  • 1/2 C ketchup
  • 1/3 C cider vinegar
  • 1/4 C brown sugar
  • 1/4 C tomato paste
  • 2 Tbsp paprika
  • 2 Tbsp worcestershire sauce (my favorite condiment to say)
  • 1 Tbsp yellow mustard
  • Salt and pepper

Preheat oven to 325. Throw pork butt into Le Creuset dutch oven (Wolfie is my man but Madame Le Creuset is my bitch). Mix all ingredients, slather all over butt (the pork, not yours). Cover, put into oven. Go away for at least 3 hours and soon the house will become permeated with the most awesome, tangy, barbecue-y smell in creation. My son came in the door after skiing and said "Mommy, I want to eat the AIR!"

Ideally a longer, slower cooking time for pulled pork is best because you essentially want the meat to fall off the bone and you should be able to shred it with two plastic forks. 3 hours at 325 was totally adequate. I needed regular forks to shred it but it tasted awesome. But after you take it out and get rid of the bone, spoon as much fat as you can off the sauce, and cut the real fatty bits off the meat before you shred it. Then mix it all back in with the sauce and let it sit back in the cooker or on the stovetop for about 10 minutes. I added a splash of apple cider for no reason, it just seemed like a good idea.

I'm sure everyone has their own idea of fixin's for pulled pork. I like to serve it with potato rolls, cole slaw and sweet potato fries. I also like a few bread-and-butter pickles on my sammich. And beer of course is great with this meal, although a Dr. Pepper would be a treat as well. I'm quite partial to Dr. Pepper.

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