Menu
Breakfast
by gansie
I guess you can call this being lazy. But, shit, its August. If the Post can rationalize a 13-day serial on a 7 year old unsolved murder, than I can surely rehash a few recipes. (Although, like my friend Pie-ka, I’m totally into the salacious story of an intern, a congressman and piss-poor policing.)
Anyway, just like a year ago, I’m still very into bulgur wheat, feta, avocado and putting an egg on anything possible. As I was trying to clear out the fridge before I leave for the Jersey Shore this weekend (!) I saw all of those wondrous ingredients.
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by gansie
I really know how to find them.
When I moved to Eastern Market, there was a Popeyes, a 711, Marty’s and a little place we liked to call Fire Butt. Fire Butt had musty windows and no real signs to clue pedestrians in on what they cooked. But they did spell out “breakfast” in those white stick-on letters. (Breakfast is served all day as well!)
I also happened to work in that neighborhood — same fucking street, to be honest — and my first day on the job I checked the place out, to the utter shock of my new coworkers (which if you haven’t figured it out yet, included BS, 80 and El). No one had yet to dare (or even want to) explore that tiny little eatery. But that day I discovered the best, cheap breakfast sandwich this side of my kitchen: A real egg, fried, covered with (swiss) cheese and served in a croissant. Along with a carton of their kinky fries, this combination eased hangovers for many a coworkers for years to come.
Soon though, E-Mark started to blow up. In a matter of 2 years, 8th Street, SE gained: Finn macCools, Belga Cafe, Ugly Mug and much more. It was pretty cool to watch the neighborhood grow, but also kinda of weird to watch some things close. Luckily, Fire Butt is still alive and serving fried grub and Rap Snacks (!) to plenty of happy/hungover customers.
But now I live in Mt. Pleasant (Columbia Heights) and there is a new dawn of restaurants — chain and original — ready to invade our tiny stretch of previously uninhabited land. Well, or land that housed only Mexican/El Salvadorian/Pupuseria restaurants. Who knows what will stay open, close or reproduce in my new ‘hood.
And, I still haven’t found anything to replace my Fire Butt in Mt. P/CoHi.
Building Columbia Heights: D.C. USA [Express]
by gansie
What would you call the above photo? Well, first, I’ll tell you what’s in it: eggs, potato, cheddar cheese, jalepeno, scallions, milk. Well, here – just click on Barefoot’s recipe and find out. I mostly followed it, except I didn’t use bacon (sorry!) and I chopped the cheese instead of grating it. Oh, and I used a cast iron skillet. But we’ll get into that later.
I was in a breakfast rut; I had been strictly outputting scrambles. But I then saw Barefoot make this on TV and appreciated how simple and delicious it looked and knew I wanted to try it. So Barefoot was almost done cooking it and then she said it – she called this an omelet.
What? An omelet? NO!
To me an omelet is simply butter in a pan, then a thin layer of egg that gets folded over once with possible enhancers (herbs, cheese, veggies.) What I would say is NOT an omelet are baked eggs. This is more like a frittata, no?
Also, how the fuck do you clean a cast iron skillet? I’ve looked it up a million times and have never found a consensus on how to care for this cookware. Plus, and I think I’ve mentioned this before, I’m so not mature enough to handle this piece of equipment. I never clean it right away. Sometimes it will sit for days with food in it, or it will sit in the sink with water in it. I’m terrible. I’d love a definitive answer. (Thank you in advance, Joe Hoya.) And someone to clean for me.
