November 24, 2010 § 15 Comments
May 2, 2010 § 1 Comment
“Wow,” I thought to myself as I set breakfast down on the table. “Did I just take up residence in Martha Stewart Living, or something?” Then I glanced over at the piles of paper on the edge of the table and the laundry that hadn’t yet been folded, and I knew I hadn’t. But, that didn’t change the fact that I had just made truffled potato pancakes and over easy eggs for breakfast, on a weekday, no less!
It all started because I somehow bought some truffle butter. This is what happens when it’s too long until the next farm share delivery, and I’m allowed to go by myself, unsupervised, to the grocery store to restock the kitchen after being gone for a while. I get awestruck by all the fancy specialty ingredients and every now and then I discover that I’ve bought something that I didn’t intend to buy, but that in the moment seemed eminently useful. I love the earthy, musky flavor of truffles, but in general they are way too fancy-pants for my style of cooking. I rarely go in for fancy and frilly (unless I’m at a nice restaurant and someone else is paying, hehe!). I’ve only bought a truffle product one other time before and that was because I read an article by the amazing and hilarious food writer Jeffrey Steingarten about a truffle sandwich that was the new rage in Haute Cuisine in Paris. That right there would normally signal “out of your league” to me, except that he described it in such darn engaging, drool-inducing language, and then he shared the recipe! I descended into some crazy, hazy truffle-desiring stupor that compelled me to empty the contents of my savings account and buy a truffle to shave on country bread, thickly slathered with butter, which was then wrapped and refrigerated overnight and grilled the next day. It tasted pretty much like buttery bread with truffle. Don’t get me wrong, it was good, but I didn’t ascend into some special circle of fungal heaven or anything.
December 26, 2009 § Leave a comment
I’m pretty much always the first one up on Christmas morning (originally because I was more ridiculously excited to open presents than anyone else, now it’s because I’m hungry before anyone else!), and while I wait around for all the other creatures to start stirring, I put on a pot of coffee, and I start cooking this frittata for our Christmas Day brunch.
This year, as I sautéed the onions and whisked the eggs, the ghost of Christmas past beckoned me to look back on young Emily, back when we first started serving this dish for Christmas. I had no idea what a frittata was in those days. I just knew that this thing that we were eating was, creamy, flavorful, and delicious and made me feel like it wasn’t even so very horrible to be eating something with vegetables, even for breakfast! I also loved the word “frittata,” and ran around saying it dramatically, as though I was casting a spell. “Frittata!” (Yes, I was an obnoxious little kid.) « Read the rest of this entry »