Breakfast for the Unstoppable Woman

28 Thursday Mar 2013

Posted by julia chews the fat in Breakfast & Brunch, Cooking For Your Peeps, Lunch & Dinner, The Basics

Nonna turned 90 this month. Which means, amongst other things, that she has witnessed the world transform itself over a span of 9 decades. NINE! How do you celebrate the birthday of someone who has been around for the rise and fall of 42 Italian Prime-ministers, the inauguration of 8 popes, 1 World War and the birth of their first great-grandchild?

Well, it seems only right to give her exactly what she asks for. “Brakfaste. Con il pannecake.”

She uses the word thoughtfully and with intention. While there is a term for “breakfast” in Italian (prima colazione), the two are hardly interchangeable. Traditional colazione in Italy usually consists of nothing more than a dry biscuit and a caffè latte, if that. When I stayed with a second-cousin in Florence a few years ago, she took great care to stock the pantry with what she thought would cater to my North American sensibilities – sugary cereal, pre-packaged “croissants” and individually-wrapped crostate – each specimen coated with the faint aroma of factory plastic. At some point in our co-habitation, she came to understand that I’d much rather have the traditional “S” biscuit and coffee than ready-to-eat factory pastries. (There’s a handful of processed foods that have a special place in my heart – probably quite literally – but this stuff? No grazie.) I imagine that most contemporary Italian families have things like yogurt and toast in the morning. But for the older batch, breakfast still isn’t emphasized as a meal. Not even on weekends.

Here, however, we’ll get together on occasion for a familial Canadian-style breakfast, with scrambled eggs and pancakes and bacon and filtered coffee. And despite it not being something my grandmother grew up with, she has come to fully embrace its merits, amongst them, baked beans – ones made Québec-style, with brown sugar, a healthy dose of molasses and a few sizeable chunks of lardon. Sure, it’s not a skinny dish. But it’s not like you’re eating it everyday. It’s for special occasions, hearty gatherings…like 90th birthday parties.

—–

The recipe below has been swiped from my mom’s collection. It’s based on the traditional fèves au lard (a.k.a “bines“) that you can find on most breakfast menus in Québec. It may not be the most delicate-looking, but it is a thing of beauty, I assure you. Through the beans simmer quite a long time, they are still toothsome; the sauce is pleasantly sticky, sweet and tangy. Everything a good baked bean should be.

Mom’s Baked Beans (Fèves au lard)

Serves 8-10 as a side

*Note: give yourself several hours for these – they are not hard to make, but it takes time to make good ones (see details below)

1 pound dried navy beans, soaked overnight
5 cups cold water
1/2 pound salted pork belly cut into 1″ pieces
1 onion, chopped
2 tsp cider vinegar
1/2 cup ketchup
1/2 cup dark molasses
1/4 cup brown sugar
1 tsp dry mustard
1 tsp salt

Cover the beans in cold water and soak the beans overnight. The next morning, strain and rinse the beans. Add the beans to a pot with 5 cups of fresh cold water. Boil for 30 minutes. Do not add salt to the water as this hinders the cooking process. Transfer the beans and water to an ovenproof casserole. Stir in the remaining ingredients. Cover and bake in a 250ºF oven for 7-8 hours.

Beating the drum for breakfast in bed

09 Saturday Mar 2013

Posted by julia chews the fat in Breakfast & Brunch, Cooking For Your Peeps, Cooking Solo, Vegetarian

≈ 4 Comments

It started like any other Saturday – flip on the computer, the radio, get the Bialetti on the stove. Bored with eggs for breakfast, I tossed together a scone batter, cut it into segments and popped the pieces into the oven. Waiting for them to bake, I sat half-awake in front of my laptop, steeping in the newsreel trance that is social media.

Then I thought, Forget this. I’m going back to bed.

The timer went off, the scones came out of the oven. I shut off the computer, grabbed some coffee, a glass of juice and this month’s issues of The Walrus and Saveur and slid back under the sheets.

I bid you to not underestimate the power of breakfast in bed. It may feel lazy and backward and counter-productive (because you got your butt into gear to make breakfast, and now you’re back where you started). But it effectively breaks the routine and is a nice way to say “I like you”, to your partner, your kids and to yourself. Lounging around in a crumpled duvet with a magazine or the paper and a spread of food is, without a doubt, a prime way to start your weekend. Especially if Bill or Lou or Mulatu are accompanying you. And unlike meeting friends for brunch, you can stay comfortably unkempt, half-clothed and disheveled and bask in the glory that is breakfast sans bra. Don’t worry – Bill, Lou and Mulatu won’t mind.

Orange-scented scones – adapted and translated from Josée di Stasio

2 cups all-purpose flour
2 tsp baking powder
1/4 cup sugar
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 cup cold butter, cut into cubes
2 tsp orange zest
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 cup 35 % cream
demerara (raw) sugar for sprinkling – optional

Directions

Preheat oven 400 ° F and cover a baking sheet with parchment paper.

Sift flour, baking powder, sugar and salt into a medium bowl. Incorporate the cold butter into the flour with your fingers (or if you have hot hands, use two knives or a pastry blender) to reduce the pieces of butter the size of peas. Add the orange zest and stir to combine.

Whisk together eggs, cream and vanilla. Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients and pour the wet mixture into it. Stir quickly with a fork, bringing the flour into the center. When the mixture is almost amalgamated, transfer the dough on the floured work surface and knead just to make the dough. Add a little flour if necessary.Try not to overknead.

Roll out the dough with the palm of your hand about 1 inch thick in a circle 9 inches in diameter. Cut the dough disk into 8 wedges. Place the wedges on the prepared baking sheet, leaving about 2 inches between each scone. Sprinkle the surface of the scones with raw sugar.

Bake for about 10 minutes. Serve with jam, marmalade (my personal kryptonite) and/or softened butter.

(Note: I like my scones as basic as possible, but Di Stasio suggests adding raisins or dried cranberries to hers. Feel free to incorporate half a cup of either once you’ve incorporated the butter.)

Sick-day omelette

10 Sunday Feb 2013

Posted by julia chews the fat in Breakfast & Brunch, Cooking Solo, The Basics, Vegetarian

≈ 4 Comments

Hi there.

I’m three days into a head cold, so this one’s going to be quickie. If there are spelling mistakes, or incoherencies, I apologize in advance. Trying to write with NeoCitran coursing through your veins feels like being at the steering wheel with one arm.

So I will be economical with my words, and just say this: MAKE THIS OMELETTE. It might just be the best one you’ve ever had. It’s filled with clusters of air bubbles that crackle and melt in your mouth – the kind of food that makes you involuntarily close your eyes between bites. Like women do in yogurt commercials.

Oh and the figs? They will sucker punch you into a euphoric haze. So, yeah, make those too.

Well. It was nice checking in with you – but if you don’t mind, I’m going to go back to drinking lemon tea and watching Timothy Olyphant in a cowboy hat.

Souffléed Omelette with Honeyed Figs (serves 1) – inspired by Luisa Weiss’ My Berlin Kitchen

3 eggs divided
1 tbsp. cold butter
Salt and freshly ground pepper

1) Divide eggs, putting whites into a medium bowl and yolks into a small bowl. Season egg yolks to taste with salt and freshly ground pepper, mix together with a fork, and set aside.

2) Beat egg whites with a whisk until soft peaks form. Fold egg whites gently into egg-yolk mixture until combined and set aside.

3) Melt butter in a cast-iron pan on medium heat. When the butter starts to bubble, pour egg mixture into skillet and spread evenly in pan. Cook omelette, gently shaking skillet over heat occasionally, until bottom is golden, 2-3 minutes. Loosen omelette and flip it onto the other side. Cook covered for an additional 2 minutes or until center in just set. Serve straight away.

(Note: another option is to fold the omelette into a half-moon after the first 2 minutes of cooking, then pop it into a 350°F oven to finish. You can also add grated cheese, chives, etc to the beaten egg yolks if you wish.)

For the Honeyed Figs:

2- 3 fresh figs
1 Tbsp honey
about 2 Tsbp goat’s cheese

Set the oven to 400°F. Wash and halve the figs. Lay in a roasting pan, cut-side up and drizzle with the honey. Add a dollop of goat’s cheese onto each fig. Place into preheated oven and bake for 6-8 minutes. Set the oven to broil and bake the figs for an additional 30 seconds or until the cheese is bubbling and golden.

The Deep Freeze

27 Sunday Jan 2013

Posted by julia chews the fat in Breakfast & Brunch, Snacking, Sweet Tooth, The Basics

≈ 5 Comments

I fully acknowledge that talking about the weather is best left for encounters at the water cooler, in the elevator, on the sidewalk with that neighbor you only see twice a year – situations where there’s a mutual understanding that you’re both just filling conversational space with a topic that, while effortless to discuss, can be pretty dull.

But.

It has been one billion degrees below zero this week, and that kind of cold does all sorts of crazy to you. In times like these, talking about the weather becomes an integral part of social interaction, more along the lines of communal therapy than mundane chit chat.

Yes, it’s January. In Canada. In QUEBEC – land of the winter Carnaval and Igloofest. We weirdos have a tradition of celebrating the cold. We even have a formally appointed mascot. But this cold snap has tested our resilience. With temperatures at –40 C, cars seized, eyelashes froze, pipes burst. News reports reminded us, quite aggressively, that exposed skin would freeze in 10 minutes and that neglecting to reduce our energy consumption would cause blackouts.

It’s been brutal.

There is one thing, though, that comforts me – and that is knowing that there is a hefty batch of granola on the middle rack of the oven, slowly toasting itself into golden oblivion. Not just any granola. This granola:

I’m not a cereal person by nature, but this granola has completely bewitched me. I forgot about the cold, the snow, the icy side-walks and harsh winds. With the hot scent of brown sugar, pumpkin seeds and toasted coconut emanating from the oven, it could’ve been the zombie apocalypse out there and I wouldn’t have noticed.

Toasted Olive Oil and Maple Granola (makes about 4.5 cups) – adapted from Nekisia Davis’ recipe featured on Food 52

1 1/2 cups old-fashioned rolled oats
1/2 cup raw pumpkin seeds, hulled
1/2 cup raw sunflower seeds, hulled
1/2 cup unsweetened coconut chips
1/2 cup raw walnuts, coarsely chopped (or pecans, almonds)
1/4 cup pure maple syrup
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1/4 cup packed light-brown sugar
1 tsp coarse salt

Heat oven to 300° F degrees.

Put oats, pumpkin seeds, sunflower seeds, coconut, walnuts, syrup, olive oil, sugar, and 1 teaspoon salt in a large bowl and mix until well combined. Spread granola mixture in an even layer on a rimmed baking sheet. Transfer to oven and bake, stirring every 10 minutes, until granola is toasted (about 25-30 minutes).

Remove granola from oven. Let cool completely before serving or storing. Can be stored in an airtight container for up to 1 month.

Note: I added a few more coconut flakes for the last 5 minutes of baking to lighten up the colour.

Winterism & amateur athleticism

14 Monday Jan 2013

Posted by julia chews the fat in Breakfast & Brunch, Lunch & Dinner, Vegetarian

≈ 2 Comments

Nothing, absolutely nothing, makes me feel frumpier than winter.

Sure, for the first appearances of snow, a handful of us are possessed (Exorcist-style) with the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed enthusiasm of children, enchanted by the soft flakes that tickle our noses and crunch delightfully under our feet. “Let it snow!”, we say, grinning like idiots as we make snow angels and throw snowballs at each other in the street.

Ultimately, though, the romance wears thin by January, when we realise that we aren’t kids anymore and have responsibilities, including, but not limited to: shoveling the walkway, commuting to work, running errands, getting to appointments and classes and other scheduled things (all to be done during the snowstorm of the century, no less). At this point, I’m just barely holding on to the whimsical notion that snow is lovely and magical, an effort unaided by the fact that I’ve been wearing the same shapeless coat, clunky boots and “aw, did-your-grandma-knit-that-for-you?” hat for weeks now, making me feel like an over-packed duffel bag forgotten on the airport conveyor belt.

Bleurk.

My goal for January? To cultivate feelings opposite from those oozing from this photo.

Anti-frump goal no.1: indoor swimming

Now, to the uninitiated (me), this activity does not come without mixed feelings. Deciding to squeeze into a bathing suit in the dead of winter and trek through snow to the pool defies all logic; it feels like you’re missing a beat on the evolutionary trajectory. You’re not supposed to be swimming when it’s minus 20 C, dummy. To make matters worse, I hadn’t been to an indoor pool since elementary school, for swimming classes that I remember being nothing more than a series of recurring ear infections and an exercise in chlorinated-water ingestion. From that point on, I was never really drawn to swimming as a serious activity, occupying myself instead with the feat of making vortexes by running around our backyard above-ground and knocking my brother over the head with big foam pool noodles. As an adult, pool activities never involved anything more rigorous than floating on inflatable lounge chairs and drinking cocktails. These were scenarios devoid of hair-tearing bathing caps and wax earplugs. No “competitive-cut” bathing suits here, thank you very much.

However, I recognize that getting older means that you’re body starts to get creaky and achy unless you do something about it. And since I have yet to find a gym that doesn’t feel like a purgatorial dungeon, swimming has become a reasonable alternative.

The beginnings were rough. After the first few laps, I felt like I was going to have a heart attack, all the while revisiting my childhood memories of ingesting the contents of the pool and getting water lodged in my ears. Why? Why would anyone do this? But soon after my first swim, I discovered the pay-off. Once you’re done flailing around in the water and you’re stepping out of the changing room and onto the street, you feel like the sexiest person alive. You feel like a full-on, miracle-performing superhero.

Another thing you feel is how hungry you are. All of that thrashing around to keep your head above water makes you very, very hungry – though interestingly, you’re not seduced by burgers or take-out Chinese food or any other highly caloric, heavy fare. In fact, all you want is salad. A big mother of a salad. But it’s cold outside, so you still want something soothing and comforting – which leads us to the simple compromise below. Veggie-centric, but also warm and creamy, this salad makes you feel rewarded for your athletic feat, conveniently distracting you from the leftover pool water swishing in your ear.

Carrot, Beet & Tahini Salad (serves 2) -adapted from Sprouted Kitchen

1/2 Tbsp. butter
2 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
2 large beets, roasted and peeled, cut into ¼” pieces
2-3 carrots, peeled into strips
sea salt + freshly cracked pepper
1 tsp. honey
3 Tbsp. white wine vinegar
2 Tbsp. tahini
1 Tbsp. lemon juice
1/2 tsp. ground cumin
12 cups mixed salad greens
2 Tbsp. toasted sesame seeds, white or black or mixed

***if you’ve got some chickpeas hanging around, toss those into the pan too.

Melt the butter in the olive oil in a pan over medium-high heat. Add the carrots and beets and season with salt and pepper. Cook over moderate heat, stirring once or twice, until the carrots are crisp-tender, about 5 minutes. Add the honey and 2 tablespoons of the vinegar and cook over moderate heat, stirring occasionally, until tender and lightly glazed, 2 minutes. Transfer the vegetables to a bowl to cool.

Whisk the remaining tablespoon of vinegar, tahini and lemon juice into the skillet along with the cumin.

Toss the baby lettuces with a light coating of the tahini dressing. Plate the greens and top with the carrots, beets and sprinkle the sesame seeds. Serve straight away.

My little friend, quiche

17 Saturday Nov 2012

Posted by julia chews the fat in Breakfast & Brunch, Cooking For Your Peeps, Lunch & Dinner, Vegetarian

≈ 3 Comments

“The skies are charcoal grey,
It’s a dreary downtown day,
But at the end of my 30-foot leash,
Is my little friend Quiche” – B-52’s Quiche Lorraine

Fine. The B-52’s aren’t rhapsodising about food; this song is actually an ode to a poodle. But I like listening to it and pretending it’s about the real thing, for the simple reason that I prefer quiche to poodles (case in point: I just re-read that last word as noodles), not to mention that it’s fun to imagine Fred Schneider and Cindy Wilson singing emphatically about beaten eggs baked in a crust. Yes? Yes.

There’s something both versatile and comforting about quiche, in that it’s equally acceptable to have for breakfast as it is at a fancy dinner party or when you’re cooking for a first date. It’s just a matter of tinkering with the ingredients to match the mood. No matter the occasion, though, I fully endorse the all-butter crust – it’s light and flaky and unctuous all at the same time, the perfect vessel for a custard of egg and cheese.

The recipe here was made for a friend who had recently moved back to the city after several months away on the West Coast. Not having seen her in a long while, I’d invited her for Sunday lunch – that one time you can geek out on making delicate foodstuffs and set out your best cutlery and serving platters, without feeling like you’re overdoing it (even if it’s just the two of you). On the best of days, there’s even an attractive tablecloth in there too. The one you’ve been saving for such an occasion.

This quiche – with it’s ruffled crust and silky layers of egg, Gruyère and sautéed veg – had Sunday lady lunch written all over it. I hope this recipe inspires you to share good food with good people, surrounded by all the pretty little things you cherish most.

Sunday lady-lunch quiche (serves 6)

All-butter crust (makes 2) – from Marta Stewart

1 teaspoon salt
2/3 cup ice water
3 cups plus 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour, plus more for work surface
1 cup plus 5 tablespoons very cold unsalted butter, cut into 1-inch pieces

Directions

In a small bowl, mix together salt and water. Place bowl over an ice bath until ready to use.

Put flour and butter in the bowl of a food processor. Pulse briefly until mixture forms large crumbs. Add the salt water mixture and continue pulsing until a dough has just formed but is not smooth. Be careful not to over-mix.

On a lightly floured work surface, evenly divide dough into two pieces. Form each piece of dough into a disk about 1 inch thick. Wrap each disk with plastic wrap and chill at least 2 hours and up to overnight.

Leek and Swiss chard quiche filling

1 small leek, white part sliced (reserve the green part for another use)
1 small bunch (about 2 cups) Swiss chard, ribs removed and leaves chopped
3/4 cup – 1 cup of grated Gruyère
1/2 cup of crème fraîche or full-fat yoghurt
6 large eggs
about 1 Tbsp fresh thyme leaves
1 Tbsp olive oil
salt and pepper

Assembly

1. On a lightly floured work surface, roll dough into a 16-inch round; fit dough into a 9” tart pan/dish (mine was 1-inch thick), gently pressing it into the sides. Flute, crimp or cut the edges.* Cover with plastic wrap; chill tart shell until firm (about 20 minutes).

2. Preheat oven to 375°

3. Line the tart dough with a sheet of parchment paper and fill with pie weights or baking beans. Transfer to oven and bake until golden (about 20 minutes – be sure to check in every once and a while to make sure that the edges aren’t browning too much). Remove weights and parchment paper and continue baking until golden brown, about 5 minutes. Transfer to a wire rack; let cool.

Baking blind with pie weights and baking beans

4. While the pie crust is baking, you can get started on the filling – heat the olive oil in a deep pan; once hot, add the leeks and allow them to cook a couple of minutes until translucent. Add the thyme leaves and the chopped Swiss chard and cook for another 2-3 minutes, until chard is wilted, but not fully cooked. Remove from pan and allow to cool.

5. Whisk eggs in a medium-sized bowl. Add crème fraîche or yoghurt and mix until combined. Add salt and pepper to taste.

6. Once the chard mixture has fully cooled, spoon into the pie shell. Pour over egg mixture until the tart shell is full (depending on the size of your pie shell and your eggs, you may not need to use all of the egg mixture – if you have leftover dough, make mini-quiches!). Sprinkle the Gruyère over the top.

7. Bake 10 minutes; reduce temperature to 325 degrees, and continue baking until filling is slightly firm and crust is a deep golden brown, 20-25 minutes. Transfer quiche to a wire rack to cool until set, about 10 minutes. Serve warm or at room temperature with a salad of mixed greens.

Poach this egg

16 Thursday Aug 2012

Posted by julia chews the fat in Breakfast & Brunch, Vegetarian

≈ 9 Comments

Up until a few short years ago, my interest in poached eggs hovered between mild to non-existant. Growing up, there were two variations of eggs on rotation in our household – scrambled and omelette – and the idea of a jiggly or, lord forbid, runny yolk was something my kid sensitivities couldn’t quite handle. I expected my egg yolks to be cooked practically into oblivion, always mixed with the whites (no hard-boiled here) and doused with a generous squeeze of Heinz ketchup.

Things are very different now. If I were able to hop into a time machine, I would tell my kid-self that a) runny yolks are great; b) ketchup should be reserved for hot-dogs; and c) The Barenaked Ladies are not the coolest band on Earth (except, maybe, when they did that cover of Bruce Cockburn’s “Lovers in a Dangerous Time“. For that one my adult-self will make a valid exception).

With eggs, the game-changing moment happened shortly after the end of a five-year relationship, when I started to dine on my own again. The specifics are a bit fuzzy, but I remember it being brunch, on a weekend, at this place. I don’t think there was anything particularly special about these eggs – they were served on English muffin, with Mornay sauce (maybe some spinach, à la Florentine?) – but for some reason that was the moment I understood why people were into poached eggs. It was the first time I was able to appreciate their rich and oozy centres, that splash of bright yellow that flows in unruly swirls all over the plate, before being mopped up with a wedge of bread.

It’s strange how that happens – when something that used to send shivers down your spine suddenly becomes good. I hesitate to admit it, but I suspect that part of this shift in taste was a happy by-product of a larger effort to etch out out a new side of myself post-split. It goes without saying that eating a poached egg is not an earth-shattering, epic, Gloria Steinem-esque affirmation of independence. But at the time, it felt like a small gesture, a nudge towards new things. He hated poached eggs, so we never ate them at home, and I had pretty much given up on them at some point between the time my musical preferences gravitated from Paula Abdul to Steven Page.

Post-split felt like the perfect time to give poached eggs another go.

Since that pivotal moment, I’ve eaten my way through many plates of Benedict and Florentine – out at brunch, or over at friends’ houses. But until this past weekend, I’d never been able to make a decent one myself. The water wouldn’t be hot enough. Or it would be too hot. Or I would attempt the vortex method, watching passively, with mouth agape, as each egg got sucked into the water tornado, only to swiftly fall apart into a holy mess of stringy egg whites.

That is, until I listened to the Spilled Milk podcast on poached eggs last week.

The hosts of Spilled Milk – Molly Wizenberg and Matthew Amster-Burton – have easily become the Paula Abdul and Steven Page of my adult life. I look forward to listening to their podcasts the same way I used to look forward to slipping “Forever Your Girl” or “Gordon” into my Walkman. Spilled Milk makes me giggle in public, by myself, in the company of strangers. Once I tried so hard to told back laughter I snorted latte out my nose on a metro car full of people. I am willing to put my dignity on the line to listen to them discuss the merits of sour candy and the perils of eating rhubarb.

This nerd crush runs deep, people.

The episode on poached eggs addressed their apprehensions of the poaching process. Hearing them confess their struggles not only made me feel less ashamed of my ineptitude, but also assuaged my fears of making another batch of egg-streaked vinegar-water. Emboldened, I went digging for a recipe on Molly’s site Orangette and came across one for “Turkish Poached Eggs with Yogurt and Spicy Sage Butter”.

What you get is a couple of pillowy poached eggs on a layer of garlicky yogurt, drizzled with a toasty sage-paprika butter. Everything about this was right. Everything.

Please poach this egg.

Turkish Poached Eggs with Yogurt and Spicy Sage Butter (serves 2) – from Orangette

½ cup plain Greek yogurt (full-fat)
½ garlic clove, crushed in a mortar and pestle (or with a garlic press)
⅛ cup (¼ stick) butter
6 fresh sage leaves
¼ tsp sweet paprika
¼ tsp dried crushed red pepper
Salt
1 tbsp white vinegar
4 eggs*
Bread for serving

*The fresher the egg, the better. If in doubt, try the sink/float test: if an egg submerged in water sinks, it is very fresh; if it floats, it’s generally not. I award you double-extra nerd points if you were just about to get up and test all the eggs in your fridge.

Directions

Blend the yogurt and crushed garlic in a small bowl; season with salt. Divide the mixture between four plates, dropping a dollop in the centre of the plate and spreading it out with the back of a spoon to form a large, thin circle.

Melt the butter in a small, heavy saucepan over medium heat. Add the sage, paprika, and red pepper, and stir just until the butter sizzles. Be careful not to let the butter burn or get too coloured. Remove it from the heat, and season to taste with salt.

Fill a large skillet about two-thirds full with water, to a depth of about 2 inches. Add about a tablespoon of white vinegar, and bring it to a slow simmer over medium-high heat. Once you see several little bubbles along the bottom of the pan and the surface of the water is gently bubbling (not a rolling boil), your water is ready. While you wait for the water to heat up, prepare a medium bowl with warm water and set it aside.

Crack an egg into a heatproof cup or ramekin. Holding the cup upright, lower the base into the water, and then, slowly and gently, twist your wrist to turn the egg out into the water. Allow the first egg to settle a bit before adding a second one. Depending on the size of your skillet, you can poach 2-3 eggs at a time. Given that this recipe includes 4 eggs, I did it in 2 batches.

Cook each egg for 2-3 minutes total, until the white is opaque. Lift each egg out with a slotted spoon. Slide the egg into the bowl of warm water that you have set aside to keep them warm while you finish up the other eggs, make toast, etc.

When you are ready to serve, remove the eggs from the water with the slotted spoon, gently shake off any water, and place two eggs atop the yogurt on each of the four plates. Spoon the paprika-butter over the eggs and yogurt. Serve with bread, toasted or plain.

Breakfast tofu

12 Saturday May 2012

Posted by julia chews the fat in Breakfast & Brunch, Vegetarian

≈ 9 Comments

It has become quite apparent in the last few months that I am a compulsive food shopper. Not in the way you might imagine, though. Despite being a food nerd, I’m not particularly interested in obtaining obscure ingredients like pink salt from the Himalayas or white alba truffles, or pretty much anything that’s sold with the promise that it’s been aged in a dragon’s den or transported across the desert by galloping unicorns.

No, my compulsive food shopping does not revolve around sourcing exotic products. Instead, it involves hoarding things that go on sale. It goes something like this: “Ooh, tomato paste is on sale. I should buy 10 cans.” Then weeks later, when I tidy up the pantry, I come upon those same 10 tins of tomato paste, plus an inordinate amount of canned beans, dried mushrooms, baking powder, and a sedentary army of Asian sauce enhancers that I barely know how to use. More and more, my food-shopping M.O has become: “It’s on sale – get it.”

Aside from amassing ridiculous quantities of canned goods and hoisin sauce, there are also a few items picked up during a binge-shopping spree that end up residing in my fridge for a longer period of time than expected. Without fail, tofu consistently wins the prize for “item-neglected-the-longest”. It’s the one thing that I stare at blankly when I open the fridge door; the one item I have a hard time getting excited about. And once I’m distracted by something more immediately gratifying, say, a chunk of Gruyère or a bowl of leftover noodles, I catch myself making the same guilt-ridden promise to poor ol’ tofu: “Tomorrow. I will make you tomorrow.” The problem is that eventually “tomorrow” becomes the expiration date and, whether you like it or not, you have to deal with that chunk of soy bean curd sitting in the lonely spot on the top shelf next to the jam.

I don’t really know why I neglect the tofu in my fridge. I like tofu. It’s texturally interesting, it’s substantial, and it helps to balance out the omnivore’s diet. But I suppose what throws me off is how anaemic it looks, especially under that thin film of plastic that it comes in. To me, tofu straight out of the package is the aesthetic equivalent of bare legs that haven’t seen a lick of sun all winter – not the ugliest thing you’ve seen in your life, but also not the prettiest. And not the most inspiring thing to look at when you’re hungry after a long day and just want to tuck into a plate of something handsome.

But today it was me, the tofu and the expiration date. It also happened to be 8am on a Saturday. This is when not being finicky about strict definitions of “breakfast food” can be a blessing. If, however, you find the idea of having tofu before 11am a little unsettling, you can always toss in a few of the usuals (i.e. an egg, some toast and a little fruit) and Bob’s your uncle.

Breakfast tofu (serves 2-3)

Marinade:

2 cloves garlic, minced
a thumb-sized piece of ginger, minced
4 tbsp canola oil
1 tbsp sesame oil
1 tbsp tamari sauce
1 tbsp mirin sauce
1/2 tbsp rice vinegar

—-

1 package firm tofu, drained
Wafu sauce (to serve)

Mix all the marinade ingredients in a bowl. Adjust quantities to your liking. Slice the tofu into uniform rectangles, each about 1/4″ thick. Place slices in a casserole dish and pour the marinade over the tofu. Let it bathe in the fridge for about 30 mins to an hour, turning once. (you can also let marinate overnight).

Remove from the fridge and allow the tofu to come to room temperature. Remove the garlic and ginger pieces. Put a grill pan on medium-high heat; when hot, place a few slices of tofu in the pan. Working in batches, continue to grill all the pieces, 2 minutes on each side, keeping the previous ones warm in the oven. For an improvised breakfast, this version was served with Wafu sauce, a scrambled egg, toast with cashew butter and some broiled mango.

Cappuccino in casa

22 Sunday Apr 2012

Posted by julia chews the fat in Beverage, Breakfast & Brunch

≈ 1 Comment

I’m not a fancy girl; I can live without fancy things. There are, however, a handful of humble luxuries that I hold close to my heart, including hot showers, toast and marmalade, down pillows and Negronis. They might not be what most people consider luxuries, buy hey, I’m a cheap date.

Homemade cappuccinos also rank high on the list of simple things that I could certainly live without, but choose not to. It’s 10am on a Sunday and I find myself jonseing for one – a Pavlovian side-effect from making them nearly every weekend for the last 2 years. But not this weekend. The problem being that my enfeebled arm is at least a couple of weeks away from doing any vigorous whisking; from a medical standpoint, making cappuccino is verboten until I can move my arm sideways without wincing. The one thing I can do, without reprimand from my physiotherapist, is click through my unpublished food photos and dream about the day when I’ll be able to make cappuccino again. That, and share one with you.

To make cappuccino, you do not need any special implements or gadgets (like that 3$ battery-operated hand frother that you got at last year’s Secret Santa). All you need is a good arm and a whisk. It helps if you have some residual stress from the week to work out; this will produce a more impressive foam. Make sure your partner, kids and/or out-of-town couch surfers are out of bed, because you will make quite a racket. (unless the point is to wake them up, in which case, go for it.)

Cappuccino

1/2 cup whole milk*
1/2 cup freshly brewed coffee (from a stove-top percolator)
unrefined sugar (if desired)
a wire whisk

*Notes: organic milk takes longer to foam that regular milk – I haven’t figured out why, but it just does. Milk with a higher fat content will also take longer to froth up, due to a higher concentration of glycerol – but don’t let this dissuade you; whole milk is the lovelier option. Just make sure it isn’t hovering around the expiry date, or else you’ll have problems getting it to foam properly.

Directions

In a small saucepan, set the milk over medium-high heat. Let the milk heat up gently, taking care not to let the milk boil. When it starts to steam slightly, start whisking. If your arm gets tired, alternate between whisking in a cranking action and a side-to-side action. As you whisk, the bubbles will get smaller and the foam will get thicker. Once you’ve gained a nice layer of foam, remove the milk from the heat.

Find your favourite mug; pour coffee into it. If you take your coffee with sugar, add it now & stir. Tilt the saucepan over the mug, holding back the foam with a spoon, and pouring the steamed milk into the mug until it’s about 2/3 full. Spoon on the foam from the saucepan.

(Side note: I highly encourage you to resist sullying your carefully prepared, pristine white foam with cinnamon. As far as I know, adding cinnamon to cappuccino is not an Italian flourish, but rather an adulterant used by baristas to mask a bad cup of coffee.)

A morning sans toast

03 Saturday Mar 2012

Posted by julia chews the fat in Breakfast & Brunch, Cooking Solo, Vegetarian

≈ 5 Comments

Baby, I am a toast girl, through and through. Make me toast with marmalade, and I’ll be yours forever.

Something magical happens to a piece of bread that’s been browned by radiant heat – it becomes something that taps into basic feelings of comfort and contentment. For me, toast also represents a history of experiences, all from different times and places: Grandpa used to make us whole-wheat toast with his sugar-free blueberry jam (for diabetics)- always cut straight through the middle, with the jam spread right to the edges. Two years of my adult life was spent getting up early on Sunday mornings to watch Coronation Street in the company of black tea and buttered toast. In the wee hours of the morning after a night out, almond butter on toast was a common go-to snack in my early 20s. And today, toast and cheese is pretty much the first thing on my mind once I’m up and out of bed.

It’s nothing less than a love affair, dear readers. Which is why on mornings when there’s not a single piece of bread in the house, it’s not uncommon to hear a low rumble of swear words slip out of my mouth. Anyone trying to convince me of the merits of cereal will be wasting their breath; a piece of hot, buttered sour-dough far surpasses a bowl of cold, soggy muesli. Every. Single. Time.

So what’s happens when there’s no bread in the house? Once the grumbling is out of the way, I usually weigh the following options: 1) get dressed and presentable and go buy some; 2) get dressed and (more) presentable and go have breakfast somewhere. But this morning, neither of these options were the least bit enticing. You couldn’t PAY me to wrestle with winter boots, a scarf, mitts and a set of unshoveled steps at 8am on a weekend to go out for a bread-run or a trek to the breakfast place. Winter 1, Julia 0.

—–

In cases like these, laziness can be beneficial as it forces you to be creative. It will test your ability to scrounge up the contents of your fridge and turn seemingly disparate food items into something edible: there are eggs, some leftover baby greens. And – oh well, hello there, Mr.Risotto. Care to join me for breakfast?

Risotto hash, scrambled egg and mesclun salad (Serves 1)

1 egg
splash of milk
leftover risotto
baby greens
vinaigrette: olive oil, juice of 1/2 an orange, splash of red wine vinegar, 1/4 tsp whole-grain mustard, touch of honey
butter
olive oil
salt & pepper

Get 2 skillets ready: a small one for your egg and another for your risotto. In one skillet, heat about a tbsp of oil. Add your risotto and flatten it out all the way to the edges of the pan. Allow to crisp up on medium-high heat, turning once the bottom has turned toasty-brown. You don’t need to be gentle with it – you’re making a hash.

While the rest of the hash is browning, melt a small knob of butter in the other skillet. Beat the egg with a splash of milk and some salt and pepper. When the butter starts to get foamy, add your egg, removing it immediately off the burner – you should be able to cook the egg with the residual heat of the pan by gently pushing it to and fro.

Toss the salad with the vinaigrette and serve with the eggs and hash, remembering that you can always have toast tomorrow.

Getting it all in one forkful. Happy times.

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