eggs

Eggs are memories

June 8, 2014 by Edlyn

These eggs on a Sunday. Damn.

I don’t know what I was thinking when I made them. Probably about a cocktail and how this would make quite a kick-ass hangover breakfast, a la Jane’s 10/5 Hendre Building community floor egg spread. Sadly I was never hungover. I was too busy thinking “I hate these people. They don’t have to work tomorrow.” I had to. On Sunday, which was fine. I got to revel on Monday – my weekend. Ah!

But since I brought up Bombay, I might as well wonder out loud. None of us have ever taken a photo of those breakfasts. Yet, I can picture them as I type this. One of us (me) always had to wake up early to open the door for the house help. Everybody in middle class (entitled?) India has help, even though their flats are a teeny tiny square. I would have to give her my apologetic acknowledgement that “Yes, there are people spread all over the floor, on pillows and makeshift mattresses, but please don’t judge us. I have to go to work. Judge me for that.” She’d do her work in 10 minutes and pretend to work for the other 20. Then she would leave. She was awesome.

I’m glad we didn’t take any photos. Jane, who was still a photographer-in-training was always busy making the breakfast and shoving the pot of tea on the stove to even think of a photo. Those are the memories. I know I’ve written about this before. It just seems to keep coming back to me. It feels like such a longggggg time ago! GEEEZUS. But it’s right there. In the back of my mind, whenever I want to think about it.

It’s there right now.

Soft scrambled egg toasts

Ingredients

4 eggs
Oil, to grease the pan
2 slices of toast (you can have more depending on what bread you use)
1 ripe avocado
Fresh mozzarella
2 tbsp fresh chives, chopped
Salt and pepper, to taste

Beat the eggs in a bowl very vigorously, until they look frothy, and have small bubbles all over. You can do this with a hand blender as well. I never want to do extra dishes.

Put a frying pan on the stove, on low heat and add the oil. Wait for it to heat just a tad. It’s important to keep the heat low as this is what makes the eggs creamy. Pour the eggs in the pan and let them settle in for about a minute or 2. Next, keep stirring (scrambling) them, until they are cooked, but still have the creamy texture. Take the pan off the heat, a little before they’re done.

To prepare however many toasts you plan on eating, spread the avocado on (like you’ve seen on Instagram 1,000 billion times) and add the eggs on the top. Top with bits of torn mozzarella and chopped chives. Season with salt and pepper and serve hot.

Ahh. You need this.

Eggs on a Sunday + Goa, on rewind

March 23, 2014 by Edlyn

I’m back in Everett, Washington! This is where I live now, you know. I didn’t want to plaster my coming-back-to-here until I completely felt at ease with the changes. I don’t mean jet lag because really, what it that?! There’s something strange about air travel. The speed at which you move does not adequately keep up with your mind and before you know it, you’re somewhere new. Try flying the Bombay-Goa route and you’ll know what I mean. It was nice to be able to forget about this place for 3 months though.

And now the emotions! Oh hell. Try walking into an airport knowing that you won’t see this place you complained about year after year. If it wasn’t the heat, it was the way people drive or the utter lack of common sense/courtesy. I didn’t need to move countries to know that my last nerve was about to burst. I did however, need to move so I knew how much I didn’t mind. I woke up every morning knowing I was on the clock and even with nothing on the agenda, I was content. I was in no hurry to check things off an imaginary to-do list and the biggest of my concerns was should I or should I not fry the bombil. (Shouldn’t. Always. What a mess.)

Sitting in my corner right now, I can’t believe I was so stressed out about losing my greencard. I didn’t like how much time it took from me but I can find more than one silver linings from that time. For one, I got to spend time with old roommates/friends Swansy and Kusumita for at least 2 or 3 or 4 whole days. Nothing has changed. By that I mean I can still leave a heavy, antique silver letter-opener in the shape of a dagger in Swansy’s house and have her freak out about its mysterious appearance two days later. As for Kusumita, two years after me and she has a husband of her own. I am happy to report that I also scared her after her “I love Bombay” drive back home from the airport. Again, I didn’t have to try. All I did was stand right near the door of her stationary taxi and ask her if she needed help with her bag (up 4 floors). After 1 month in Durgapur, West Bengal, that can be translated as: “Hands up. Give me all your money. I am also a ghost.”

My other silver linings were my sister and new husband. Jane, who helped me with her mafia network of friends, also encouraged me to stand up at the back of a roofless Jeep. I don’t know if that makes any sense but day after day of being pissed off by the government the only thing that made sense was to drive to Farmer’s Choice at the back of that monster (by Goan standards) vehicle. It was perfect. Apart from making me photocopy every piece of official paperwork that I owned, brother-in-law was there with his Facebook account, every time I needed to change his status update and make myself laugh. Once he was done calling me “evil”, he pitched in and helped without having to ask him 10 billion times. I appreciated that and I also appreciated his Jeep.

My parents, I’m happy to report, haven’t changed at all. They will still stick out their necks to help us, their children. Before I flew to Goa, I had am imaginary list of things I wanted to do. I didn’t need to do them but I put them out into the universe anyway. Out of it, I got a picnic After many “ohh I don’t know if I’ll come…”, I am so glad my whole family was all part of it. Baga, the beach that made up every summer in my childhood book, was once again in a starring role. And there were (I don’t know how we’re related but we’re closer than actual-) cousins! I love LOVE when things come full circle. From there, delicious memories are made. This is the Goa I love and the Goa I’ll go to the ends of the earth for.

As for Gayle, all our memories revolved around food. From that pizza she made (which I threw up because who knew eating too much and too fast could make you sick?) to that pizza we ordered from Domino’s. Don’t tell my parents but we also secretly got them a new dog with zero watchdog ability and a lot of clothes-stealing ability. He will be neutered soon.

I had the time of my life at Miah and Ajay’s wedding, and added about eight thousand and nine “I love Goa” moments. Most of them happened in the most familiar places and how grateful I am for that. Nothing brings greater clarity than knowing you don’t have to have the world to do what you love. You just have to be present….in the same geographic location as a 5-year-old. That water fight was no fluke. Neither was the neon-lit dance party. Cynthia is an addiction. If I could wish things for people I know, I would wish her enthusiasm. There is no other way to live. I hope she never forgets how to be 5. I hope I don’t either.

Now I’m back here and I have to start worrying about a job and drive Matt crazy, while he returns the favour. There is this great loss you feel as you leave one part of your life and move to another. I don’t think it can be described in words. Instances would describe it better. It can come from a certain smell or a sudden rush of memories aroused by the most arbitrary things. There’s no way you can stop them, until they become normal and you accept them. Maybe I just can’t leave things behind easily. It is one of my favourite qualities. I will work through it with food.

It always works.

I made this breakfast on my last Sunday in Goa. I was going for the biggest, bestest breakfast memory and I pulled this out of the archives, with my mother by my side. It was fancified with some roasted cherry tomatoes on the top, but it is the same old same.

Masala omelette
(serves 2)

4 eggs
1 small red onion, chopped
1 small tomato. chopped
1 green chilli, chopped fine
Salt to taste

Break the eggs in your biggest coffee mug and beat them till they’re bubbly and fluffy. Add the onion, tomato and green chilli to the eggs and fold in. Sprinkle salt into the mix. Heat a non-stick pan with oil and pour in half of the mixture. Turn the flame to medium heat and let it completely cook on one side. Flip it over and cook for 2 more minutes or more, depending on how well-done you like your eggs. Fold it over and serve hot.

Extras: I topped the eggs with simple olive oil +garlic +rosemary oven-roasted cherry tomatoes. This is the recipe, with slight ingredient modifications.
I also cut up a chickoo, because it was the season and it’s my favourite milkshake fruit. I didn’t really need to tell you that but I just wanted to.

I hope your memories serve you well.

Red pepper and goat cheese frittata (sort of)

March 3, 2013 by Edlyn

Stick to the Sunday program, dude.

I am. I am.

I woke up in the way I want to wake up everyday: To the sun. The blinds were closed but I knew it was there. My roomie and I knew we had to put breakfast of hold. You don’t ignore the sun in these parts.

We took the dogs and our lazy selves for a long walk and then had short playtime, which was interrupted by a black cat. More than other cat colours, black cats don’t give a shit about you or your smelly puppies. Dogs of every other shade, colour or size however, make up for that deficiency. How? They chase them. If you don’t want your dog to get run over, you chase back.

It’s a slightly inconvenient but we do what we do…for love or something.

When we got home, I remembered I made crepe batter. Too much crepe batter. So much crepe batter that it was interfering with my eggs on a Sunday. Gah.

And you know what I did? I made them anyway. In 10 seconds. So I could eat crepes with my roommate, shoo away dogs, AND get the goat cheese out of its case without my life falling apart.

Typical Sunday morning.

Red pepper and goat cheese frittata

You’ll need 2 eggs, half of a half of red pepper, chopped, (I could’ve just said quarter), 2 tbsp of chopped red onion and some goat cheese to sprinkle on the top.

Set your oven to broil. In the real world, that’s 500 degrees F. Our oven doesn’t know what that means. It goes up to 450 degrees F and decides it’s not worth the trouble. My scrapyard threats have stopped working.

Break the eggs into a bowl and whip them with a dash of salt and pepper.

Cook the onions and red pepper in a frying pan with oil until the onions get soft. It should take about 2 minutes. Once this step is done, pour the eggs into the frying pan and cook them for 3 minutes, constantly stirring so they don’t set. They need to be only partially cooked.

Since I don’t own a skillet I can put in the oven, I had to transfer the eggs to a ramekin. I topped it with goat cheese and cooked it for 6 minutes in the 450 degree F oven. Your eggs will be done once they puff up slightly and turn golden on the top. Let it cook and serve with chopped chives as garnish.

Or don’t.

I’m clearly not one for rules.

Now can you guess where the oven gets it from?

Poached eggs on parmesan potato hash + A chocolate box

February 24, 2013 by Edlyn

Hi Gayle, (My youngest sister who actually knows how to cook and doesn’t pretend like me.)

I made poached eggs! Do you remember when you’d say, “Make! It’s so easy” or something like that? I don’t either but every time I make poached eggs, I think of you for some reason. It’s not the first way I choose to cook my eggs because my eyes are usually blind when I wake up. I’m not saying they’re difficult to make either BUT it involved a bit more than a simple scramble and putting effort into anything food-related makes me think of you.

L’aubergines also remind me of you.

I’m not even close to you in cooking skill level. You’re a lot more stubborn when you cook, choosing to break rules and not use measuring spoons. I can’t ever tell if that’s a good thing of a bad one but as soon as we get to taste it, all doubts are put to rest. BECAUSE IT’S FREAKIN GOOD. Duh.

You’re only 22. At that point in my life, I was working at a silly newspaper. Before that I was deciding whether I should have 1 or 2 vada pavs from the canteen. I usually went with one plain vada and one complete vada pav. At 20, you laid the foundation of your own home business, designed a logo, made chocolates and went out and learnt skills that will help you be the best at your craft. You see what I’m trying to say here?

I know you feel like nobody takes you seriously at home. It’s mostly true. It’s not your fault nobody can see beyond your unruly hair that you have combed since Roma left. It’s also not your fault you were born last and mama and D love having you around more than acceptable parental levels (haha). The part that I (and I hope everybody else) take seriously more than anything is your talent. Yes, you are lazy (sorry) but when you’re at work, you’re every thing a future chef is supposed to be. You may not be able to prove that you’re 22, when you’re forever 6 but it gets a bit easier to let go when we see your passion. We’re proud.

You need to keep doing this. There’s a reason that I see your face in ever corner bakery I walk past. You’ll be the owner and maybe you’ll let me wash the dishes and make good chai. You’ll call it “Little Chocolate Box” (OBVEEESILIOUSLY) and you’ll be the happiest when you go to bed because you’re living your dream.

I am happy for you, I really am.

Now shut up and eat these eggs. And don’t wear my clothes. I’ll check when I come home, 9 months from now.

Poached eggs on parmesan potato hash

Err..how did I make thiiiss…..Oh yes. This was enough for 2 people.

For the parmesan potato hash, I used 1 potato, grated parmesan (go nuts…or not), salt and pepper.

I grated the potatoes on a cheese grater and drained then of the starchy water with a cheesecloth. It actually quite a pretty sight. I added grated parmesan, salt and pepper to the potatoes and fried them in a lightly buttered pan. Form the potato mix into a ball and flatten it on the pan. Cook on one side till it brown like in the picture and then flip it over. Repeat the browning process and set on a plate.

I used 2 eggs and poached them one at a time. I let a pot of water come to a boil. I then added a little salt and a tablespoon of vinegar to the water. I reduced the heat so the water would be set to a simmer. I broke 1 of the eggs into a cup and gently placed it into the water. I cooked it for 4 minutes because I like my poached eggs to be a little runny as well as a little firm. If you want the egg to be more undercooked, leave it in only for two minutes. You’ll have to use your kitchen judgement to get the egg cooked the way YOU want it. Take it out of the water and place them on a paper towel to dry off. Repeat with the other egg.

Place the eggs over the potato hash. Crack a bit of pepper, add some salt, toast some bread (butter it) and eat.

Gayle, why aren’t you eating?! Oh wait, you’re not here. Whatever man. More for me.