Tomatomania makes even me look good

I am such a crappy gardener that last year I actually paid a farmer to grow vegetables in my own back yard for me.

My farmer's name was Anthony, and he was awesome.  I had beautifully tended raised beds of exotic produce, and bumper crops of squash and eggplant.  I also had a husband who informed me that I needed to stop hanging out with my girlfriends who were doing things like hiring farmers.  

So this year, I was on my own.  

Consequently, my carefully selected* baby heirlooms from the good people at Tomatomania, planted lovingly back in April in neat rows and tied up with string, are now a massive jungle of crazy ass tangled up tomato plants.  Plus, there's a scraggly patch of sage and some sad, leggy basil bushes with holes in all the leaves, probably from some kind of icky bug.  Anthony would know, but I'm not allowed to call him anymore**.

Amazingly, the tomatoes are thriving under my policy of complete and utter neglect, and the thicket is spewing out fruit like there's no tomorrow.

I can't take any credit for the crop, but I will take credit for all the delicious food we've been having as a result***.

Heirloom Tomato Pie

Easter Egg Sandwich

I'm an Easter egg underachiever.

Instead of decoupage, decals, natural hues from bark or moss or tea, pastel glitter dips, add-on beaks or wings or butterflies, hand-drawn stencils, google-y eyes, fuzzy feet, elaborate swirls, polka dots, tartan plaids, embossed golden curlicues, or anything in this slideshow, when we bother to decorate eggs, we go with Paas. The stinky, completely chemical stuff from the drug store that stains everything but the eggs, because the dorky loop egg holders never work.

It makes a big mess, the eggs stick to the carton because somebody put them back in there before they were dry, and then you have dozens of uneaten, mis-matched hard-boiled eggs in the fridge.  When you peel one to make your eighth egg salad sandwich of the week, inevitably there are tiny veins of residual color running through the egg, which are visually interesting but definitely tend to dampen the appetite.

Plus, they do not contain sour jelly beans, Skittles, or M&Ms.  The plastic eggs from the drugstore, on the other hand, do contain candy, and are already colored.  Guess which ones everybody likes better?

No contest*.

Why put your eggs through all that?

Fry (or scramble!) 'em up and put them in a sandwich instead.

Thanksgiving Done Well

We loaded the car for our trip up the coast with all of the road trip essentials:

My son: Kindle Fire filled with episodes of The West Wing; basketball; sweatpants.
My daughter: big bag of chips; The Hunger Games trilogy audiobooks on her iPod; Ugg boots.
My husband: recent issue of The Economist; Lego(R) VW Camper Van kit; running shorts.
Me: roasting pan; chef's knives; hand mixer; kosher salt; serving platter; two nine-inch cake pans; ceramic pie plate; measuring cups and spoons; whisk; spatula; matching square and rectangular enameled baking dishes; pre-measured ingredients in ziplock bags; olive oil; three cookbooks; two cooking magazines; nested set of glass mixing bowls; baking sheet; Silpat; cooling rack; laptop loaded with cooking blogs; stretchy leggings*.
The dog: Stinky breath.

The very fitting Lego project, completed.

Later that day, we arrived at our rental house, pleasantly surprised by the following:

My son: There was a flat panel TV with all the sports channels in HD, and his bed was unbelievably comfortable.
My daughter: She got to sleep up in the loft, with a porch that looked out over the ocean.
My husband: The house was four blocks from the beach, he and the dog could roam anywhere in town, and his dad was happy to come by and just hang out.
Me: The kitchen was beyond fully stocked, with a Viking range, potato peelers, and a turkey baster, and Trader Joe's was less than 15 minutes away.  Plus, there was a brand new bookstore in town to explore.
The dog: Everybody he met wanted to pet him, and he got to roll in the sand.  A lot.

The days were warm and bright, filled with walks by the sea, reunions with friends, cozy breakfasts with Grandpa, feisty multi-player card games, a little too much email, just enough wine, hikes through cypress groves, afternoons at the movies, a few unfortunate stomach pains (mostly mended) and, the highlight for me, family gathered around a table groaning with home cooked food for Thanksgiving dinner.

It wasn't perfect. I had a lot of pangs about Mom. My father-in-law was much frailer than we'd expected.  My brother-in-law's girlfriend spent an afternoon in an ER waiting room, suffering through gall bladder issues.  I let work get in the way, and didn't sleep nearly enough**.

But somehow being together, in that unexpectedly great house, made those things less important and all the good moments matter.  It was the Thanksgiving we needed.

It was Thanksgiving, done well.

A humble brand of fabulousness

There was not much love lost for Michael Chabon's Telegraph Avenue when I hosted book group today.  It was a big, over-written slog of a novel, ripe with good intentions and populated with an unlikely but ultimately interdependent tribe of memorable, flawed, striving characters buried under an avalanche of similes and metaphors and weighty authorial preening.  Like Fifty-Eight, abandoned in death, we collectively longed to escape to a loquat tree and never look back.

Here is an example of what Michael's editor should have done:

There was not much love lost for Michael Chabon's Telegraph Avenue when I hosted book group today.  It was a big, over-written slog of a novel, ripe with good intentions and populated with an unlikely but ultimately interdependent tribe of memorable, flawed, striving characters buried under an avalanche of similes and metaphors and weighty authorial preening.  Like Fifty-Eight, abandoned in death, we collectively longed to escape to a loquat tree and never look back.

The book was way too long.  The author was clearly full of himself.  There was a parrot that got away.

Lucky parrot.

There were small flashes of comic genius:

"Then a hatch in the side of the gondola sighed and swung open, divulging the airship's secret cargo: a basalt monolith, the very thing to set half-apes dreaming of the stars.  Black knit polo shirt, skull polished like the knob on an Oscar.  Gold-rimmed sunglasses, gold finger rings, black Levi's, Timerland loafers.  Pausing at the top of a fold-down stair for a display of freestyle looming, brother looked like a celebrity golfer or as if perhaps he had recently eaten a celebrity golfer."

Freestyle looming is going to be my new thing.

I loved this, too:

"The cakes and cookies at Neldam's were not first-rate, but they had an old-fashioned sincerity, a humble brand of fabulousness, that touched Archy in this time when everything good in life was either synthesized in transgenic cyborg vats or shade-grown in small batches by a Buddhist collective of blind ex-Carmelite Wiccans."

Now, I had my lunch theme:  Food with a humble brand of fabulousness. And no blind Wiccans.

Carpool Wars: Battle Brunch!

"Hi. Is Susan Rice available?

Um, an old classmate of hers actually, but I'm not calling about her donation to the capital campaign.  She's clearly been very busy and I'm sure she'll get around to mailing that in soon.  This is a diplomatic emergency and I'd like some UN peacekeepers, please.

Yes, I'll hold.

Susan?

Oh. Well, maybe you can help me. I'm afraid there've been some fairly serious voting irregularities here in Encino, and...

No, not Allepo.  Encino.  We've got a situation and it may be time to get Jimmy Carter involved.

Where do I even start? OK, first of all, there was this huge platter of bacon...

No, this wasn't a matter of cultural insensitivity to Muslims, it was a matter of bribing the electorate.

What's that? Oh, about five pounds.
Pecan wood smoked.

I know, right? Completely unfair tactics.
We were able to trace it back to an outside instigator from Maryland. She's a known bacon zealot, probably in your database there somewhere.

Ha! Of course there's none left that I can send you as documentation. The whole brunch was almost destabilized by fighting over the last few pieces.  Frankly, we were lucky there wasn't more bloodshed between these formerly friendly neighbors.

But that's not the big issue.
You see, the very integrity of Carpool Wars has been tarnished by a deliberate balloting miscount.  Somehow, everybody won again*.

Yes, I'll hold.

Mrs. Clinton?

So sorry to trouble you, but...
Ah ha. I see. More of diplomatic move, you say? Future in the state department?

You know, you could be right.
Thank you so much, Hillary. Good luck with Syria."

Battle Brunch really was one of the best Carpool Wars yet. Contestants each entered one savory and one sweet dish, without any further limitations.   Huge points for creativity, flavor and presentation all around.

But we still want someone impartial to count the votes next time**.

The savories:

Baked eggs with kale on Joe's Brick with Tom's Red Eye Gravy

Mascarpone scrambled eggs with fine herbs and garlic tomato toast

Mediterranean Poached eggs in tomato sauce with chickpeas and feta

Chicken Enchiladas

The sweets:

Sinful Sticky Cinnamon Buns

Banana Nut Muffins

Crepe Cake with Coffee Cream and Hazelnut Praline made with Brown Butter Crepes

Creme Brulee French Toast

How do you like your eggs?

It's kind of a personal question.  

But OK, I'll confess.

I like mine baked.

With bacon*.

Preferably Bubba's bacon**.

Lots of Bubba's bacon.
How do you like your eggs?

Mark's Baked Eggs with Caramelized Onions and Cream
These, from a guy who has perfected the art of brunch.

Olive oil
1-2 red onions, thinly sliced crosswise (so there are rings, like a tree trunk)
kosher salt
freshly ground black pepper
sugar
thyme

Butter
1 dozen eggs
1/2 pint heavy cream
generous amount of freshly grated Parmesan cheese

Heat the olive oil in a medium skillet, then add the onions and a generous sprinkling of salt, pepper, sugar and thyme.   Cook slowly, stirring occasionally, over medium low heat until onions are completely soft, deeply golden brown and caramelized.   Set aside.

Preheat oven to 350.  Butter 12 muffin tins or small ramekins.  Divide caramelized onions between the muffin tins.  Pour a little heavy cream into each tin, enough to just barely cover the onions.  Carefully crack an egg into each tin.   Season with salt and freshly ground pepper, then finish with a portion of the grated Parmesan.   Bake for 30 minutes, until set.

The lovely photos of Mark's eggs come courtesy of Lynn over at The Actor's Diet.   I was too busy scarfing my eggs down to get any pics.

Click to print this recipe!

Oven Omelet
From my family's recipe trove (i.e. a scrap of paper I found in a box)

8 eggs
1 c. milk
8 oz (1/2 pkg.) bacon, cooked until crisp, and then crumbled
- and/or -
1/2 c. diced cooked ham, pancetta, sausage, or other tasty protein
1/4 c. chopped green onions
1 c. grated cheddar cheese, or other cheese of your choice
1 tsp. kosher salt
1 tsp. freshly ground pepper

Preheat oven to 350.  Butter an 8 inch square or round deep sided baking dish.  Beat eggs and milk together until light and fluffy, then add remaining ingredients.  In addition to what's listed, you can add chopped mushrooms or other veggies, or try different types of cheeses.  This is my tried and true blend, but go for it! 

NOTE: You can use a larger dish if you are serving a group. Just increase the eggs and milk, using a ratio of 1/4 c. of milk for every 2 additional eggs.  The omelet in the photo was made with 10 eggs and 1 1/4 c. of milk, and served 8 of us.   

Pour mixture into the prepared baking dish.  Bake uncovered for 40-45 minutes, until top is golden and dish is set. Serve immediately!

Click to print this recipe!

* And coffee cake.  The one with the caramel sauce.  If it's not too much trouble.
** Delivered to my door in dry ice, courtesy of the good people at BaconFreak (motto:  Bacon is Meat Candy!), whose introductory Bacon of the Month Club membership has to have been one of the all time greatest gifts I have ever received in my life.  I love you, Marie!

Book lovers brunch gets rave reviews

Here is what is written on the jacket of my friend Heidi's book, The Girl Who Fell from the Sky:

"Haunting and lovely, pitch-perfect, this book could not be more timely"
---Barbara Kingsolver

"A stunning debut"
--- George Hutchinson

"A post-modern novel with heart"
--- Ms. Magazine

"Artfully constructed and beautifully written"
--- Hettie Jones

"Unforgettable"
--- Whitney Otto

Here is what might be written on the jacket of the brunch we had for Heidi yesterday:

"These eggs are so good!*"
    --- The author's mother-in-law

"What is the salad dressing on the arugula?  It is to die for!**"
   --- Friend who brought tray of delicious homemade zucchini bread

"Pass the mimosas!***"
   ---Anonymous

"Those cheese pastries?  Sick! Sick, I tell you!****"
   --- Gourmet chef in attendance because he is related to the author

"Was there basil in the pineapple salad?*****"
   --- Person I should have recognized because I've had dinner with her about five times, but didn't so was embarrassed by introducing myself to her as she walked in.

"Now, if you don't mind, I must have the recipe for those sinfully delicious lemon bars.******"
  --- Longtime soccer mom

"There's nothing here that I like."
   --- My son, who managed to make a meal out of grapes and brownie bites because he doesn't eat eggs or salad

"Man, that lady selling books was slow.********"
   ---Everyone

"Spoiler alert: The brunch has a happy ending."
   --- Me

*Night Before The Brunch Strata
 The beauty of this recipe is that you assemble it completely the night before.  About an hour ahead of when your guests arrive, take it out of the fridge, pop it into the oven, and that's it.  It is also incredibly versatile.  I made four different kinds by putting out all kinds of yummy ingredients and tossing different mixes into each casserole. All of them turned out great.

Butter a 13x9 baking dish, preferably an oven-proof glass or ceramic one that will look nice for serving.  

For the custard:
8 large eggs
3 cups whole milk
1 cup whipping cream
1/2 cup finely grated Romano or Parmesan cheese
2 tsp. dry mustard
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. freshly ground pepper
generous grating of nutmeg

Whisk all ingredients together in a large bowl.  Set aside. 

Cut a 1-pound loaf of rustic French bread into 1/2-inch-cubes.  Should make enough cubes to completely cover the bottom of your pan, and then some.  Prepare a few assorted fillings of your choice (mix and match to your heart's content):

1 lb. hot Italian sausages, casings removed, crumbled and browned
12 slices bacon, cooked crisp and crumbled
1 1/2 c. of diced ham
1 cup of sliced green onions
1 bunch of spinach, washed, roughly chopped and cooked in a little butter, garlic and salt
1 small onion, chopped, sauteed in either the bacon fat, the sausage fat, or a little olive oil and salt
Sliced Crimini mushrooms, ditto
All of the veggies above, sauteed together
3-4 fingerling potatoes, thinly sliced and sauteed for 5 minutes
2 leeks, thinly sliced and sauteed for 5 minutes
1 red bell pepper, seeded and cut into strips

No matter what, you will need:
2-3 cups of grated cheese of your choice (or try a combo!):

• Cheddar
• Fontina
• Gruyere
• Asiago
• Jack

Cover the bottom of your prepared baking dish completely with bread cubes.   Layer on your filling ingredients, and top with enough cheese to cover generously.   Pour in the custard mixture until you see it just reaching the level of the cheese.    Cover with plastic wrap, with enough slack in the wrap so that if you push down, it will touch the top of the casserole, and put into the fridge.  Set a heavy plate on top, if you have one.  This will prevent the ingredients from floating, and help the custard soak into the bread.

In the morning:

Preheat oven to 375.  Remove the strata from the fridge.   When oven is ready, bake for 40-50 minutes, or until puffed and light golden brown.   Casserole should move slightly (like Jello) but not look liquid-y in the middle (like molten lava) when you jiggle it.  Allow to cool for 10 minutes, then serve!

**It's the yummy one from the latke lesson with my crack dealer.

 ***Citrus Cooler for a Crowd
Adapted from Brunch at Five Points Restaurant, by Marc Meyer.  Depending on the size of your crowd, decide how much is one "part".

4 parts orange juice
2 parts orange-tangerine juice (or other variety of orange juice)
2 parts grapefruit juice
1 part combination fresh squeezed lemon and fresh squeezed lime juice
1 part pomegranate juice or cranberry juice

Combine all ingredients in large pitcher.  Serve on its own, or with Champagne as a citrus mimosa.

**** These were the to-die-for cheese rolls from Porto's Bakery.

*****Fruit Salad with Orange Basil Balsamic Vinaigrette

1/3 c. water
1/3 c. sugar
zest of 1 orange
1/3 c. of orange juice
2 Tbs. of finely chopped basil
2 Tbs. balsamic vinegar
1 Tbs. olive oil
Sliced pineapple and blueberries, or other fruit combination of your choice (this is great with watermelon, for example)
About 1 Tbs. finely chopped mint

In a small saucepan, combine sugar, water and zest. Bring to a boil and cook for 2-3 minutes.  Remove from heat and stir in juice.  Allow to cool slightly, stir in basil.   Let sit for several hours.  Strain the mixture.  Add vinegar and olive oil and whisk to blend.  Chill.   Just before serving, drizzle enough dressing over your fruit to add flavor, but don't douse it.  Sprinkle with chopped mint, stir and serve.

******Sinfully Delicious Lemon Icebox Squares
One of my fellow mommy caterers made these for our recent event, and I had not been able to get them out of my head.  Thank goodness Heidi wrote a book so I could make them again.  The recipe originally was for a pie, and is from the Dam Good Sweet cookbook by David Guas.   This is also a great one to make ahead and freeze until needed.

For the crust:
18 whole graham crackers, plus about 20 gingersnaps (can use all graham if you like) -- enough to make about 2 1/2 cups of crumbs
1/3 c. sugar
1/2 tsp. salt
9 Tbs. butter, melted

Using food processor, grind cookies until they are coarse crumbs.   Stir in sugar and salt.   Slowly drizzle in the butter and stir until mixture holds together when you press it with your fingers.   Press into the bottom of a buttered 9x13 baking dish and set aside.   Preheat the oven to 350.

For the filling:
2 14 oz. cans of sweetened condensed milk
1 1/4 c. fresh lemon juice, strained
zest of 2 lemons
8 large egg yolks

Whisk the milk and the lemon juice together in a bowl.  Whisk the lemon zest with the egg yolks until the mixture looks pale, 30-60 seconds.  Then add the milk mixture and whisk one more time to blend.  Pour the filling over the prepared crust.   Bake for 25 minutes, or until custard is just set.

Cool for at least 1 hour.  Loosely cover with plastic wrap and freeze for at least six hours or overnight.  About 10 minutes before serving, remove from the freezer so the bars are a little easier to cut.    Dust with powdered sugar, or top each piece with a spoonful of fresh whipped cream.

******* As molasses.   Good thing I have pushy persevering friends.