Eggs on a Sunday

Eggs on a Monday.

April 29, 2013 by Edlyn

Because I was Debbie Downer on Sunday.

I wasn’t feeling that way the entire day though. It was only when I sat down to write that I let nostalgia carry me on. It was an almost continuation of the night before (Saturday) where I let myself have intense thoughts about my role in this world. Now if I keep typing, I’m sure I’ll get carried away by it all again. All you need to know is that I wasn’t inebriated or hormonal.

I’m just a little spark waiting to start a metaphorical fire.

Deconstructed green egg wrap

When eating fruit, remember who planted the tree; when drinking water, remember who dug the well.

This isn’t a quick breakfast if you don’t have pesto in a bottle in the fridge. I usually make a tiny batch when I have leftover cilantro or parsley and I have no idea what to do with it (there’s only so much you can garnish!). The ingredients for this are also flexible as are all my egg recipes. For the first time ever, I’m going to list out the ingredients rather than just smush them together in a paragraph. I think you’ll be be happier that way. I still don’t want to add numbers to how much you can use and if I have, it’s only to guide you. Sunday are for not caring too much and that’s how I always want it to be.

Ingredients

2 eggs
2 tbsp half and half or milk
1 (spinach) tortilla
1/2 an avocado
Finely chopped red onion
Cilantro pesto, to spread
Greens of your choice
Salt and pepper to taste

Beat the eggs with the half and half (or milk) in a bowl and fry it in a non-stick pan. To make sure it cook evenly, push the partially cooked edges of the egg towards the centre (with a spatula) so the un-cooked, liquid parts get to take their place. Do this until the egg is more or less well-cooked on one side. Sprinkle it with salt and pepper. You can also do this step later. On another pan, warm the spinach tortilla and have it ready for the egg to go on top. Getting back to the egg, flip it over and leave it on the pan for 30 seconds. It’s ready. You should have a round omelet. It shouldn’t be too laborious. If it is, take a nap.

With the egg on the tortilla, it’s time for some fun. Spread the cilantro pesto on the top with the back of a spoon – as much as you like. In a smaller bowl, smash the avocado and sprinkle some red onion in it. Take some (or all) of this avocado mixture in a spoon and drop it on top of the pesto. Spread it unevenly around the centre of the egg. You can add finely chopped serrano/jalapeno peppers (with few seeds), paprika or salt/pepper to this if you’d like some heat. Place the greens on top at the end and you’re done.

Breakfast, brunch or whatever you like to call it, is served.

Super Sunday eggs + Resurrection rice cakes

April 7, 2013 by Edlyn

Hello another Sunday where I’m ready to pass out from eating a much too heavy breakfast in the morning, doing nothing in the afternoon, and then shamelessly passing out like I had initially planned. No wait. That’s not the shameless part. There is something worse than that. It takes me back to Goa when I lived with my parents, followed this Sunday routine except after I woke up, I expected more food.

Seriously, Indian children are so spoilt in the parents making them food department. No matter how old you get, your mother and in my case my father too, always want to feed you. So yes, blame them if you must. What horrible parents they are for wanting to feed 27-year-old children (Hi Jane. I meant you).

Gathering whatever was left of my will to survive, I climbed up the stairs from the lower part of my house and made my way into the kitchen. As soon as this happened, my mother would appear from nowhere as if she was standing behind me all along and say, “Hungry? Wait I have to make rice.” Oh okay mama, I’ll just pretend you said pulao and that my stomach is not ready to crush every ounce of my brain that’s telling me it’s stuff your face you lazy arse o’clock. The lazy arse being me, of course.

My mother, never disappointed. She’s the best rice-maker I know and to say I’ve learnt to make amazing pulao from her would be a big lie. I know nothing about the first of it and if I do, it’s purely by chance. From watching her I learnt to wash the rice (twice) thing, the one-cup-rice-two-cups-water thing, the simmer-boil-close-open-stir thing, and the drain-the-water-once-you’re-done thing. Sometimes I get all these “things” mixed up perfectly.

As for the pulao, I can make my mother proud. I don’t know how. I’ve never bothered learning about it as much as I worried about biting into a cardamom pod while eating.

The things that take you back home…

I miss your pulao, mother!

Super Sunday eggs + Resurrection rice cakes

Claire, I stole the rice cakes idea from you. That’s right. I took it. You were asleep and I said “To hell with her!” Don’t feel bad. If I can make the pain go away, I’ll say two things: I love the names “resurrection risotto cakes” and Donna Chinona. You inspire me to copy you. Feel better?

You’ll need one cup of leftover risotto or vegetable pulao, 2 eggs, 1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese, 1tbsp plus a little more buckwheat flour (can also substitute with all-purpose flower) and some salt and pepper to taste. For the side (if you prefer sides), you can use slices of tomato and salad greens drizzled with balsamic vinegar.

Take a cup of the pulao and mix it with an egg, buckwheat flour, Parmesan cheese and some pepper. Ideally you rice should already be salted because it’s made from leftovers but I don’t like to predict these things. If you need more salt, don’t let me stop you. You should be able to make about 3 small rice cakes or 2 big ones. The cakes should be easy to shape so if 1 tbsp buckwheat flour isn’t enough, add a teaspoon more and see if it does the trick.

The end.

Haha.

Heat olive oil in a non-stick or stick frying pan and gently add the rice cakes to it. Like a sniper. Three to four minutes later, turn them over. They should be golden brown on the cooked side and easy to turn over as well. It’s easy when the bottom is cooked. These things are connected and written into the fibre of the universe. I might sound like I’m making it all up but I’m not. Repeat this on the other side and take it off the stove and place it on a paper towel or plate. Paper towel to soak the extra oil or plate because you used olive oil and your worries should have disappeared by now.

In the same pan, crack an egg and cook until the white is set. You can cook the egg as you choose, I’m not going to be an egg Nazi.

Decorate your plate with edible plant-based nourishment (tomatoes and salad greens) and breakfast is ready.

I’m going back to bed.

(PS: I will have a mother’s special vegetable pulao recipe up on here this week. It’s only fair)

Sunny side up say whaaaaat.

March 31, 2013 by Edlyn

Is it strange that I spend quite a lot of my time thinking I was made for bigger things? That I should have already written my bestseller and signed every fan copy requested of me while juggling a media career where I talked for 30 minutes every week on how we just need to get along and have cookie exchanges.

Cookie exchanges. Like stock trading with cookies.

Never mind all of that. I figure if I wanted something really badly, I would have done it already. No excuses. I sometimes wonder how I’m going to keep writing this way. Everyday, almost diligently. With strong doses of “move your arse”, I have managed well so far. Last year was spent just sitting around contemplating what I could so instead of whining. Now I just sit around. I DO NOT.

Here’s your lesson that you can gain nothing from whining but a lot from sitting down. I’ve made a lot of things in the kitchen and a lot of messes I just did not want to clean up. The fact remains that I’m always going to love cooking and taking pictures of my food. Nobody can take that away from me, least of all the pressure I sometimes put on myself to write.

My “eggs on a Sunday” post has been MIA 3 weeks now. I was going for week 4 but I changed my mind. This is a good thing because we’re all going to be winners here.

Winners not whiners. I’m going for gold, if you didn’t already know.

Sunny side up eggs on creamy-mustardy spinach

You’ll need 1 egg, a cup of spinach, dijon mustard (or any mustard you want to experiment with), heavy cream, bread crumbs (I used panko crumbs because it’s all I had), mustard seeds, parmesan-reggiano, salt and pepper. Oh, also heat the oven to 400 degrees F which takes 8000 push-ups worth of time to do in this house. You should see my arms. Buff.

On a baking sheet lined with a tiny bit of foil, mix together 1/2 tsp mustard seeds, 1/4 cup bread crumbs and 1 tsp of mustard. Put this in the oven for 5 minutes. This will go on top of the egg, for crunch ye know?

Pour water in a skillet to cover half of it and wilt the spinach in it. This should take about 3 minutes. Once it’s done, drain the spinach and squeeze out the water from it. Wipe the skillet clean and put it back on the stove with the spinach, 1 1/2 tsp mustard and 1 1/2 tbsp heavy cream. Stir until the spinach absorbs the cream and mustard, taking on a creamy texture itself. This will take 3 minutes. Season with salt, pepper, and a sprinkle of parmesan cheese. Put it on a plate and fry the egg.

HURRY.

Break the egg into the pan and once the white is completely cooked, put it on top of the spinach and sprinkle the bread crumbs on the top. Tres facile, ne c’est pas?

I try, I do.

If there’s that thing you’ve always wanted to try, do it.

Don’t be like me, hiding my non-existent bestseller from the world and everything.

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.

Potatoes are forever.

February 17, 2013 by Edlyn

I’ll admit with not an ounce of regret that potatoes are my number 1 favourite food in the world. I don’t think it’s possible to do anything wrong with a spud and some salt.The person I live with is probably making a stink face if he’s reading this right now (which will happen IN MY DREAMS).

But I don’t care. I liked potatoes before I liked him.

And I liked home fries since last May, when Melissa took me to breakfast on a New York Sunday, the day after I arrived in the US. Immigrant in the house. You know, I’m probably just showing off now, which is totally not what a potato is about.

They don’t mind if you chop them unevenly or don’t peel them or leave them in a basket till they start sprouting from their eyes or use them in a stock and act like they didn’t do squat. They don’t. They just take it.

Makes me cry.

This is my way of thanking them. Selfless potatoes, you matter.

Fried egg and home fries

I used 2 of the Yukon Gold variety (they look exactly like the potatoes we get in India), 1 red pepper and half a white onion.

The recipe I was kind of following suggested I microwave the potatoes for five minutes until the edges turned white. I have said before that I am a borderline snob and one of the things that make me stop and think about how I don’t want to live my life is using a microwave. In our home, we use it as storage space for bananas and sliced bread and maybe banana bread.

Instead, I turned up the oven to a very random 385 degrees F. I chopped the potatoes into cubes (1/2 inch), mixed them with olive oil, and put them on a baking tray lined with foil. I baked them for 30 minutes. At the 15-minute mark, I tossed the potatoes a bit so they would cook evenly. I also realised that 385 degrees F was a bit too random EVEN FOR ME, so I turned it up to 400 degrees F.

While the potatoes were cooking, I chopped the onion and red pepper and fried them in a teaspoon of butter until the onions were light brown. I seasoned with a 1/4 tsp of salt. Not much but you’ll know why soon enough. I put them in a bowl and set them aside. They weren’t happy but they learnt to live with it.

The potatoes came out of the oven. I added a tablespoon of butter to the same frying pan and threw the mothers in. I pressed them down with the back of a spatula and let them cook for 8 minutes. Then I turned it over and did the same thing but I let them sit for 10 minutes. I kept doing this until I got the crisp+soft texture and dark brown colour I wanted. I think it took about 18 minutes. I then added the onions and peppers and some more salt + pepper, mixed it..blah blah.

Home fries, people. My favourite.

Finally, the eggs. A serving for 2, I broke two eggs on the top but in retrospect, maybe I should have cooked the eggs separately and then placed them on top of the potatoes.

You live you learn.

I garnished it all with chives from a pot in my living room and parsley from a grocery shop nearby.

Then I ate it and blogged it.

Now I’m sleeping it off.

Happy happy happy truly HAPPY Sunday to you.

Ramekin, son of Rumplestilskin.

February 10, 2013 by Edlyn

Like everything else in life, I don’t place too much emphasis on owning every kitchen tool that ever was. I still think back on that grinding stone in my grandfather’s house that made the best curries. Basic and beautiful, with a sound that I miss.

The kitchen is one place where I spend a lot of time trying to save the world and some dinner. I shy away from electrical appliances only because we have a mid-level manager’s office-sized kitchen and I wouldn’t know where to put them. I’m happy we have an oven (that’s sucking at life right now but at least it exists) because I try to bake everything I see these days (including my knuckles). I ignore the dishwasher. The crock pot is my soup BFF. The coffee pot keeps me sane and the toaster is overworked but oh so generous. The ice-cream maker and I have conversations about how it’s just him, Snickers and me against the world.

It really is.

I’m a lucky girl. I live with a man who came with a stocked kitchen. Fancy knives, a crock pot, baking supplies, a coffee pot and very nice tableware — it’s a little impressive. You wouldn’t think of that as a prerequisite but trust me, it is. You can tell his dinner is not a spoonful of peanut butter and he uses plates for plate purposes. The rest of the house be damned. I’m a borderline food snob. I like knowing where my food comes from. The “borderline” comes into the picture when I allow myself certain liberties of the deep-fried, french variety.

With fancy dip. Classy.

Two ramekins joined the family recently. Thank you Goodwill or I’d never pick them up without have a 10-minute debate with my inner Uncle Scrooge. I even got two for Gayle as a “be my slave” bribe. Every time I see a ramekin I think of buying them for her. She makes the best creme brulee and acts like it’s no big deal. I’m no dessert expert, but I can make some stress-free baked eggs. Yay me.

Thanks to cheap ramekins and an oven that’s currently testing my patience, awesomepantsface is one step closer to losing me to the kitchen and I am right here, singing a lullaby to a small ceramic bowl.

Eggs in a ramekin

I first put some bacon on the stove and cooked it to an almost crisp. I buttered the inside of the ramekin while it was cooking and started the layering process. I chopped a few leaves of spinach and half a tomato and put it in the ramekin. I then crumbled the bacon and put some of it on the top. I added a tablespoon of half and half (you can add cream or milk) and seasoned this with pepper. I broke two eggs on the veggies and bacon and put the remaining bacon on top. The ramekin was placed on a baking tray and baked for 20 minutes at 350 degrees F.

YUM.

The egg yolks are a bit runny so if you want the yolk to cook firmer, leave it in for 25 minutes instead. Season with pepper, salt and fresh cilantro. After this, you’re on your own because I have no recollection of what happened next.

I must’ve died.

Kitchen memories: Jane

February 3, 2013 by Edlyn

It’s sometimes difficult for me to understand my sister Jane. I purposely forgot how old she is but yes, she is the eldest of us 3. We lived together in Bombay for 3 years, just us, in a two-room flat. (That’s two rooms not two bedrooms). I would be lying if I said it was perfect. We fought a lot and I think it was mostly always my fault (Yes Pain, I’m taking the blame).

As the eldest, I think it has always been her instinct to protect us. As the middle child, it was my instinct to pretend that I didn’t know what that sound was. She cooked for me, forced me to eat, made me taste the vegetable dishes she made for salt, and kept me in line. I know I was a terrible roommate. Most days I’d work 10 or 12 hours, six days a week and when I came home, I just wanted to be asleep or a vegetable. The one day I got off work, I preferred being the same way. I thought that was my free pass to get out of doing stuff. Right now, I can’t believe I was like that.

This is not an apology. Our family has a hidden way of saying sorry and I know she knows what I know. This is about our Sundays in Bombay.

I worked on Sunday, oh yes I did. Almost every one of those Sunday mornings, I woke up to a room filled with people on every surface. They were common friends but closer to her because she was the best host. She’d wake up and the rest of them would follow like sloths after a hard night of foraging. Except foraging means drinking in this case. I like to think that her breakfasts were what they came over for. Complete with chai, toast and eggs, she fed the masses on our limited collection of melamine (and one ceramic) plates and mugs with most of their handles broken. Everything was laid over the previous day’s Hindustan Times, which was spread over the tangled bedsheets that kept everyone warm.

Jane HAD to have something to eat and tea the moment she woke up (here’s proof). So as soon as she rose, she’d put her toothbrush in her mouth and a pan on the stove. She scrambled whatever was “scamble-able” and leftover from last night’s binge-eating. Chicken manchurian from Mama Mia was her bestseller. I never tried it (I did not like Mama Mia’s Chinese food) but I was a big fan of the sorpotel and xacuti version.

I am a big fan of hers. For taking so many risks, for taking care of me and for introducing me to a world of wonderful messy eggs that fit so well in our wonderful and messy lives.

Jane-style eggs and toast

This is the easiest thing in the world to make. I just scrambled two eggs and at the very end, I added some of the guacamole I made last week, some leftover mince and rajma (red beans). Oh yes, and just a dollop of sour cream on the top for fun.

Jane the pain, this breakfast was for you.

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