Breakfast - - Page 22

by BS

Going Deep for Breakfast

Editors’ Note: We’re very excited to have a guest post today from Aimee Bourque, who blogs her culinary escapades at Under the High Chair; great food guaranteed, clean floors unlikely.

I think we can all agree, breakfast should be a tranquil start to our day. Whether you like your mornings to begin with merely the perfect muffin or prefer a full-on trucker’s breakfast, assaults on the senses are not welcome, nor, I’ve discovered, are conversations with a three-year-old.

On an average Saturday morning in my house, I take the path of least resistance in hopes of maintaining the peace. This means serving up something featuring bread and covered in our own harvested maple syrup for the little monkeys—with bacon of course. (We’re talking about my offspring here—they’ve embraced bacon without hesitation; as for the maple syrup, well, we are Canadian, after all.) All week we’ve slogged through balanced meals, fighting bite for bite, and now I just want them to hush up and eat up while I wake up.

This Deep Dish Blueberry French Toast is assembled the night before so the only real effort required in the morning is to bake and serve. Unfortunately, the simplicity of this breakfast dish doesn’t guarantee the sought after ‘Zen’ morning. Case in point on a recent weekend: I have just pulled a bubbling French toast from the oven and things are shaping up nicely—that is, until my pre-schooler wakes up.

No ‘good morning’, no hugs, he stumbles out of his room with this announcement:

“Mummy, I just made a little bit of barf in my mouth.”

He can’t say his ‘R’s and so he says ‘barf’ with what sounds like a British accent. BAwf.

Wordlessly, I hand him his sippy cup with apple juice and glance at his father, who is present at the kitchen table but hidden behind the newspaper. As expected, there is no response from him. Uh huh, selective hearing.

My son continues:

by gansie

Blogger Boggle: Hangover Cures

Editors’ Note: You know, it’s hard thinking of snarky commentary every day, so we’ve opened up the labor pool to our fellow food bloggers.

This week our panel of hung-over experts tell us their cures for fixing the nasty post-drinking bug.

Spoonfuls of honey.

—Melissa McCart, Counter Intelligence

Ummm, don’t hate me, but I don’t actually get hangovers. I tell people it’s the Irish blood in me, though plenty of people with more Irish blood than me get hangovers… but I’ll say after a night of heavy drinking, I sure like a good ol’ fry up – greasy breakfast, fried eggs, corned beef hash and/or bacon, sausage, home fries, buttery toast, jam, wait… what were we talking about?

—Yvo Sin, Feisty Foodie

Bacon! There was a scientific study on bacon that proved its hangover curing effects.

—Jason Mosley, Mr. Baconpants

in Breakfast 39 comments

by tvff

Lunch in Translation: I Just Called to Shill for Coffee

This one is tough for me. Making fun of Stevie Wonder gives me no pleasure. He’s a certifiable genius and was the most vital and important factor in music during the first half of the 1970s. Talking Book and Innervisions represent the fifth greatest back-to-back album combination of the rock & roll era. But I must do what I must do.

Here’s the man who wrote “Superstition” and “Living for the City”… in a terrible Japanese commercial for coffee. Excuse me while I pound my head against the wall.

Full critique, and the final verdict on how big a sell-out this ad is…after the jump.

in Breakfast / Celebs / Drinks 1 comments

by C. Christy Concrete

Fix The Fuck Up: It’s A French Thing

Editor’s Note: Fix the Fuck Up is an occasional series in which we try to look like we actually know what we’re doing, well, after we’ve already fucked up. Here’s the original massacre.

Eggs are evil.

Not misguided evil, like Darth Vader. Or megalomaniacal evil, like Dr. Moriarty. Or naturally evil, like cats. More like an oblivious, self-centered, lah-de-dah kind of evil; like Q. Eggs just do their own thing, often in spite of your best efforts to tame them. They collapse when you whip them into foams. They turn into waterlogged mush when you overcook them. They force you to blame your significant other for your own emission control problems. But the evilest thing eggs can do is fuck up both baking and cooking; sometimes both at the same time, as was the case with Allyson’s recent quiche quatastrophe.

in Breakfast / Eggs 4 comments

by Lyndsey

Peanut Butter: A Revolutionary Divide

My mom looked down at our floor and said, “What is that down there?” Yes, she had found our large box of peanut butter which we order in bulk online direct from the company. With the peanut butter scare a while back, you’d think that would decrease our peanut butter use, but we have a favorite company, which was not part of the scare, and so our habits continued. We go through about one small container of peanut butter per week – hence the need to buy in bulk. We put it in oatmeal in the morning, and admittedly, sometimes the oatmeal tastes more peanut buttery than oatmealy. Still working out the balance.

There have been two big peanut butter debates that I’m fascinated by:

in Breakfast / Food Travel / Rants & Raves / Trends 12 comments

by gansie

And The Bible Told Me So

I’m just a tiny bit competitive. If BS is making asparagus soup, gansie must make some asparagus soup. Plus, it was my idea (see comments) in the first place.

So please, I welcome you on my asparagus soup making journey. It was a shit show.

Okay, so blah, blah, blah I don’t follow recipes. I made my own asparagus stock, according to Martha, and then sorta followed the BS endorsed recipe. Well, except for a few KEY ingredients.

The soup called for heavy cream and lemon. Like an ass, I thought I could sub yogurt for that combo: the yogurt could add a creaminess (heavy cream) and tartness (lemon.) Well, I made a boatload of soup and I guess the amount of yogurt I added in no way enhanced the flavor, nor the texture.

So then I added curry powder. And then ginger. And no luck. Still was fairly unflavorful. I think I used too much onion in comparison to the asparagus. I was PISTED. I mean, what asshole fucks up soup.

I checked out my fridge – longing to add depth to this vat of green liquid. I spotted red wine. An acid was desperately needed. But when I called out this almost revelation, the couch-dwelling 80P negged the idea. But then he suggested I consult the bible. The Flavor Bible, that is. It recommended red wine vinegar. I added a scant tablespoon and it automatically perked up the soup. I served it, but still lamented about its unsuccess.

Cue day two.

in Breakfast / Eggs / Fish / Recipe / Veggie 6 comments

by gansie

It’s On

Now, I know ES is like a big family or whatever and we all share the spotlight equally and we all get along because we have the greater good in mind – food obsession. But, you know what, BS:

EGGS ARE MINE

Don’t think you can “write” a post with a ton of pictures of eggs and think you’ve become the reigning monarch of the land of eggs. Or something like that.

Well, this is what I’m been up to. And, TVFF, I’m not done with you either.

Cream cheese, wilted arugula, lox, sunny side up egg on my friend Hickey’s dad’s awesome homemade bread. It was baked with some craziness like molasses and oats.

in Breakfast / Cheese / Eggs / Fish / Veggie 9 comments