Holy cannoli! Another four months have flown by! In fairness, I have written several blog posts for other blogs in that time, but clearly it's high time for one here. New year, new post! ...and a personal resolution to post more often.
When cooking, it's often easier for me to prepare large batches rather than one or two servings at a time. Sometimes I worry that I will get sick of something I've made, and sometimes, like tonight, I make something SO good I have to blog about it just to keep from eating the entire pan! I bring you - the Monday Night Frittata. As anyone who knows me well can tell you, any kitchen creation I concoct is typically a hybrid of several recipes or inspirations. This is also a point of much chagrin for those who are foolish enough to ask me for a recipe of something I've made for them. However, in this instance, I think I can actually provide one. Feel free to tinker away with it yourselves!
But first, I would like to congratulate myself on my own Monday superpowers. While some of my friends are out training for marathons, triathlons, planning large scale events such as weddings, etc., I have accomplished what I think is perhaps an equally amazing feat today. I woke up before sunrise (around 5:15 am) and went to yoga, witnessing a spectacular magenta sunrise on U Street on the way there. I was able to hold crow for several seconds for the first time! But wait there's more!
After an incredibly productive day at work with many decisions made which felt more like a Thursday or Friday - I went grocery shopping, had dinner, did laundry, AND cooked for the week. You see where the cooking is coming into play? I had some eggs and bell peppers which needed to be consumed soon, and so the idea of a frittata had come to mind earlier in the day. I have also recently resumed my love affair with my cast iron skillet, so really, I was daydreaming about this frittata-making on this cloudy Monday ALL day.
The inspiration for my Monday frittata came in part from The Pioneer Woman's (TPW) "Sunday Frittata" which can be found here: http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/2013/12/sunday-frittata/ The great thing about frittatas much like paella is that you can throw virtually whatever you have around into it.
Mine included:
2 medium onions
2 bell peppers (one yellow, one orange if you're REALLY curious)
1/4 box of whole wheat thin spaghetti
5 eggs
1/2 to 3/4 cup shredded mozzarella
Smoked paprika
Salt & pepper
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
Bit o' butter
This could not be simpler! I cut the onions in half then sliced them and got them going in the cast iron skillet on the stove top in a little bit of vegetable oil and later adding a bit o' butter. I let them cook long enough where they actually started to caramelize, and I have found this works better when they are sliced not chopped. Then I began slicing the bell peppers while the water for the pasta was also going. At some point (yes, impeccable precision here), the spaghetti was boiled and drained and set to the side while the onions and peppers did their thing. Eventually, I decided they were ready, so I preheated the oven to 400 degrees. I then went about beating the eggs with the smoked paprika (you won't miss the bacon with this!...or at least I don't which is perhaps not such a solid indicator) and then added the cheese to the mix. I combined the spaghetti with the vegetables in the skillet and then poured the egg cheese mixture on top spreading it somewhat evenly with a fork. DO NOT MIX after this point. Let it set.
I followed TPW's advice on letting the frittata sit on the stove over a medium heat for a few more minutes before moving it into the oven. The browning effect created using this method is definitely worth it and delicious. However, you'll notice I used about half the eggs she did, because I only had five but also didn't want an entire dozen. I also heeded her advice on salt. Since I had no salty ingredients, I made sure to salt and pepper liberally throughout the process. Where we most diverge is she hates eggs which are brown on top, while they are my favorite! So, I increased the oven temp to 400 from her 375 and left it in there for almost 20 minutes giving the cheese time to really melt and start to brown as well. Additionally, you might notice I swapped out potatoes (which would be totally delicious in this but don't usually reside in my house) with whole wheat thin spaghetti... which had the awesome double delight advantage of reminding me of an egg and pasta baked dish from my childhood. The Soviet version of a frittata is called a "zapikanka" which loosely translates to "baked dish" - perhaps akin to the American casserole. You can bake just about anything in the egg you have around... including leftover spaghetti, meat (if that's your pleasure), etc. So essentially, a frittata.
However, as I'm writing this (having already eaten dinner earlier), only 3/4 of my frittata remains, and I am longing to eat ALL. OF. IT. I must pace myself and save some for breakfast tomorrow and dinner and maybe lunch Wednesday if there's any left (Tuesday is a dept lunch out). There's something about the sweetness of the caramelized onion, the colors of the bell pepper, the comfort of the egg and melted cheese... Superpower #52 - willpower over tasty food smelling enticingly in one's kitchen.
Here's to hoping the rest of this week can be this productive! Cheers! And happy brunch food eating all week long!
Until next time... (hopefully in under 3 months!)
Monday, September 29, 2014
Sunday, May 25, 2014
Superhero Skill #314 - Cracking Yourself Up
Because I haven't posted in a while, and because people I love like my favorite Mom do not follow my Facebook feed... I offer you these words of wisdom here.
Highlights from my superhero civic duty of taking the Census:
1) Feeling very grateful for the big "little" things in life when being asked whether my residence has running water, a faucet, toilet, etc.
2) Feeling annoyed when "never married" is the last option in a list of "possible" relationship status choices. Isn't that the default? Don't a majority of us in fact start life "never married?"
3) Feeling conflicted when asked do I ever have difficulty dressing or bathing myself. Yes, usually Mondays.
Highlights from my superhero civic duty of taking the Census:
1) Feeling very grateful for the big "little" things in life when being asked whether my residence has running water, a faucet, toilet, etc.
2) Feeling annoyed when "never married" is the last option in a list of "possible" relationship status choices. Isn't that the default? Don't a majority of us in fact start life "never married?"
3) Feeling conflicted when asked do I ever have difficulty dressing or bathing myself. Yes, usually Mondays.
Saturday, March 22, 2014
Superhero Seeks Nemesis
Hello 3.5 dedicated readers! (I'm giving partial credit to the undoubtedly at least one "skimmer" out there.)
As superheroes (superheros? why must English be so nuanced?!) rarely have leisure time to read, it takes me FOREVER to finish a book. Speed reading might be my super power of choice if I could still soak in every word and absorb every feeling from the pages. But I digress.
Tonight I finished reading Enslaved by Ducks by Bob Tarte. An enjoyable light read which was sometimes funny, sometimes touching but did drag on a bit. Still, it got me through some stressful and challenging weeks by taking my mind off things, and for that, I am very grateful.
The book is non-fiction, and the author describes in great detail the daily undertakings that he and his wife endure in the pursuits of pet ownership of the many parrots, parakeets, ducks, geese, turkeys, rabbits, cats, and other critters. As the book's title suggests, it is not always clear who owns who (or whom? Man, English!).
And so it is with superheroes.
Life as a single thirty-something year old homeowner also comes with its inevitable burdens. I constantly find myself battling dust, gravity, shoes that refuse to stay in the closet, clutter that comes out of nowhere seemingly of its own accord against my guard. Belly dance instructors who poo-poo something as minor as scoliosis and multiple back surgeries as the possible reasons why my body simply won't cooperate with their commands. Dating websites who demand "Open This Now! It's a match!" only to show me the profile of a member who I already clicked "No" on and theoretically according to their same site took "out of the game." Moments of self-doubt when I wonder what I'm doing with my "career" and where I see myself in a year... five years... ten years.
Yet, every day, I rise. I get ready. I face the day. Lunch gets made. Bills get paid. Floors (eventually) get swept. Is this real life? It sounds much more dire than it is perhaps. I'm happy. I'm healthy. I'm making a (hopefully positive) difference in my community. But the dust bunnies and gentle pull of gravity will not be slowed. They are stealthy, patient enemies - ever advancing. Who has time for ducks??
As superheroes (superheros? why must English be so nuanced?!) rarely have leisure time to read, it takes me FOREVER to finish a book. Speed reading might be my super power of choice if I could still soak in every word and absorb every feeling from the pages. But I digress.
Tonight I finished reading Enslaved by Ducks by Bob Tarte. An enjoyable light read which was sometimes funny, sometimes touching but did drag on a bit. Still, it got me through some stressful and challenging weeks by taking my mind off things, and for that, I am very grateful.
The book is non-fiction, and the author describes in great detail the daily undertakings that he and his wife endure in the pursuits of pet ownership of the many parrots, parakeets, ducks, geese, turkeys, rabbits, cats, and other critters. As the book's title suggests, it is not always clear who owns who (or whom? Man, English!).
And so it is with superheroes.
Life as a single thirty-something year old homeowner also comes with its inevitable burdens. I constantly find myself battling dust, gravity, shoes that refuse to stay in the closet, clutter that comes out of nowhere seemingly of its own accord against my guard. Belly dance instructors who poo-poo something as minor as scoliosis and multiple back surgeries as the possible reasons why my body simply won't cooperate with their commands. Dating websites who demand "Open This Now! It's a match!" only to show me the profile of a member who I already clicked "No" on and theoretically according to their same site took "out of the game." Moments of self-doubt when I wonder what I'm doing with my "career" and where I see myself in a year... five years... ten years.
Yet, every day, I rise. I get ready. I face the day. Lunch gets made. Bills get paid. Floors (eventually) get swept. Is this real life? It sounds much more dire than it is perhaps. I'm happy. I'm healthy. I'm making a (hopefully positive) difference in my community. But the dust bunnies and gentle pull of gravity will not be slowed. They are stealthy, patient enemies - ever advancing. Who has time for ducks??
Sunday, March 16, 2014
A Jerry Sized Hole
Sometimes even superheroes get the blues. It's a beautiful yet lonely night as fluffy white snow falls mid-March and settles effortlessly along the tops of branches. Yet my heart aches for a different vision. A sight of turtles sunning themselves just as unassumingly on logs along the banks of a small man-made lake in Apex, North Carolina.
There, my dear friend Jerry and I built our friendship, and there we both got our stride back. I am so sad tonight, and my heart so heavy remembering it's been a year since he's been gone... and that I wasn't there to say goodbye with the bagpipes. I can still hear him talk and laugh. He still sometimes whispers to me in my dreams, but there are no words for the longing to take one more walk with him. To count turtles. To have him tell me about life from further down the road.
At 40 years my senior, he was always a bit ahead of me. Even when we were recovery buddies from our respective ailments. Although, I would like to believe, we were always very close in our maturity... which is to say always around 17. It worked for us. Generations apart, we had a common language. It's not something I could easily explain, although a few special people in our lives speak the same one. It knows no age. And in losing Jerry, I have come to hope it knows no bounds.
I speak to him in my heart and know he's close. It's just like him to throw a snowstorm at us when it should be spring by now. Perhaps he doesn't want us counting turtles without him... and he knows we don't want that either.
There are people throughout our lives in difficult times who offer to help. And there are those who show up. Jerry and Toby brought me into their lives and their family when I was adrift in the world, and for that, they are forever in my heart.
There, my dear friend Jerry and I built our friendship, and there we both got our stride back. I am so sad tonight, and my heart so heavy remembering it's been a year since he's been gone... and that I wasn't there to say goodbye with the bagpipes. I can still hear him talk and laugh. He still sometimes whispers to me in my dreams, but there are no words for the longing to take one more walk with him. To count turtles. To have him tell me about life from further down the road.
At 40 years my senior, he was always a bit ahead of me. Even when we were recovery buddies from our respective ailments. Although, I would like to believe, we were always very close in our maturity... which is to say always around 17. It worked for us. Generations apart, we had a common language. It's not something I could easily explain, although a few special people in our lives speak the same one. It knows no age. And in losing Jerry, I have come to hope it knows no bounds.
I speak to him in my heart and know he's close. It's just like him to throw a snowstorm at us when it should be spring by now. Perhaps he doesn't want us counting turtles without him... and he knows we don't want that either.
There are people throughout our lives in difficult times who offer to help. And there are those who show up. Jerry and Toby brought me into their lives and their family when I was adrift in the world, and for that, they are forever in my heart.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)