Cookstory: January 11-12, 2013. Just Call Me Eggy McEggMeister.

By the end of this entry, there will be no question that I love eggs. I'd make 'em every day if I believed it was a healthy decision. That is all I've made the last two days, as a matter of fact. Though that wasn't quite the way it was supposed to work out.


January 11, 2013

Evening

Eggs (prepared three ways), Bacon, and Toast.
This is why I'm loving my daughters today: here it was, their Friday Night Movie Night™, and they could watch anything they wanted. A Pixar movie. Yet another lame Tinkerbell movie. (In fairness, the most recent Tinkerbell movies from Disney have fairly high production values and the writing has not been egregious.) Some flick where the animals have been given computer-generated mouths and and deliver groan-inducing quips like a bad latenight talkshow host's monologue.

So what do they unanimously, enthusiastically choose? The two-hour season opener of Downton Abbey. Though it takes a lot longer than two hours to watch it with them: we have to stop and explain things like how the Earl of Grantham lost his fortune, or why Matthew is adamant about taking a pass on his inheritance. But, God bless 'em, they are heavily invested in the show. Not quite 8 and not quite 11 years old. How cool is that?

And what better menu to accompany the wedding of the year but another breakfast at dinner. Nothing too surprising here: Zuzu went with her traditional scrambled egg (largely uneaten, due to a tummy ache). Wanting to go simple, I scrambled mine too. Piper got her cheese omelette. And Laura decided to go for one of her favorite comfort foods: the egg sandwich.

I've had a fun time over the last year \developing my take on the Egg McMuffin. My favorite challenge on this recipe was consistently getting the egg to "fit" on the English muffin. the perfect circle is not the egg's natural shape. We don't mind this so much at McDonald's since nothing there could remotely be described as "natural" anyway. To achieve the optimal egg circle, I purchased a set of different-sized, simple, round cookie cutters, and I chose the one closest to the circumference of the muffin. I coat the inside of the circle with a butter spray and very gently lay it on the nonstick surface. (I feel guilty letting anything metal touch the surface of my nonstick pan, but I don't see any other way to get the result I want.)

After a small amount of butter has melted on the pan inside the perimeter of the cookie cutter, I gently crack the egg into the circle, trying to land the yolk in the center. (That actually happens about 7% of the time.) I salt the egg while it's still in liquid form so it makes its way into the egg. After the edges of the egg have set, the cookie cutter is carefully removed with tongs. The egg is flipped, and I let it cook a little longer than an over-easy egg (call it "over-hard") so that the yolk won't drip everywhere once the eater bites into it A slice of American cheese is laid over the top of the egg (this is one dish where only American cheese works), and once that's good and melty, The whole thing is slid onto the top of one half of a toasted muffin, and topped with the other half. Yum.


January 12, 2013

Evening

Omelettes.
Our closest friends are back from a lengthy vacation, and we took the occasion of Piper's school team's first-ever victory in basketball (Go, Demons!) to get together and catch up on our holiday activities. As always happens, the visit went on much longer than expected, and it was clear that my Italian-themed dinner that I had planned for the family back at our house was not going to happen. (I never even made it to the market.) So Laura offered that if they let us stay, I would make omelettes for everyone. (Our friends thought it was bold of my wife to offer up my services for the meal, but Laura and I thought it was pretty forward of us to invite ourselves for dinner in the first place.) After a brief discussion of filling options and a laugh at the fact that the Baileys were doing eggs for the second night in a row, the two husbands were off and cooking while the wives kept us entertained at the dining room table.

What made this cooking so enjoyable is that I had the rare opportunity to focus on one thing, and one thing only: the omelettes. My friend took care of pretty much everything else. I never have this luxury at home. I'm always having to juggle different parts of the menu at the same time, and everything suffers. (I could never be an Iron Chef.) But on this night, I was able to pay attention to exactly how long to steam the baby spinach (just enough to start the wilting, but no so much that it turned into a limp, yucky mess). I could focus on getting a good, consistent mince for the sweet peppers. I could saute the chopped onion just until the sweetness had been enhanced, and no further.

Most importantly, I could focus on omelette technique. I kicked out seven of those babies, made to order. The goal with omelettes is to get that pan heated just to the point where the omelette cooks through but the exterior does not brown. Also, you do not want to overload the omelette with ingredients—something that most restaurants do. (This tendency, I think, is probably a reaction to the typical over-portioning that American restaurants do. Patrons like to think they're getting a big bang for their buck, and the result is too much food. More on this another time.)

In the case of one omelette, the "customer" requested that it be significantly browned on the outside. But of the other six where I was really trying to nail the exterior, I think I got it right twice. And I was actually happy with those numbers. None of the people served complained. (Piper called it my "best omelette ever.")

I'm pretty egged out now for awhile ... except that the next recipe I'm making is a soup with five eggs in it. But after THAT, I'll be able to get away from eggs for a while.

One of the nicest elements of this meal was the fact that all during cooking (and after, of course), I was able to participate in the conversation. At home, there's usually too much crap on the counter island to feel comfortable inviting guests to come hang while I cook. I'm probably within earshot of the family room, but then the TV is usually on out there. (We don't usually entertain unless it's Thanksgiving or Christmas, and you can bet that the TV is on playing some sort of sports event.) It would be nice if I could find a way to set up the kitchen so that I don't feel so detached from the "party" when I'm cooking. Add that to the 6,488 other items we have on our  "at home" to-do list.