November 3, 2011 § 24 Comments
I’ve had a long-time propensity towards working in coffee shops. Ever since my crash course in coffee drinking many summers ago in Norway. (I went from drinking cream and sugar with a splash of coffee to drinking plain coffee, black, in the span of about 3 days, thanks to the merciless teasing of my dear uncle. Except for the occasional cappuccino, I’ve never looked back.)
I sit, along with the many other denizens of Laptopistan, titrating my caffeine while hammering through work. Were it 300 years ago, we’d be inventing the stock exchange in London or fomenting revolution in France. Instead, what are we doing exactly? Blogging, I suppose! And dissertating, and consulting, and designing websites, and such and so.
In college, I was never able to study in the library. It always put me to sleep. So, instead I went and studied in the coffee shops. There were two options then, in the sleepy little agricultural town where I went to school. Not a Starbucks or Caribou Coffee in site.
One coffee shop skewed toward the granola, with fair trade coffee, decent organic baked goods, grating music, and dirty old couches. The other had unabashedly Midwestern coffee (i.e. on the weak side), but I loved to go there because it was decorated like a family kitchen. It was the kind of space where I felt comfortable staying for hours.
Like the coffee, the food belonged in a church basement. But, the names always made me laugh.
December 25, 2010 § 1 Comment
This post was originally posted one year ago, today, but we had this frittata again this year (of course – it’s tradition!) and I was reminded, as always, of how good it is and wanted to share it again.
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! Frittataaaaa!” (Yes, I was an obnoxious little kid.)