If I were a vegetable, I would like to be an eggplant. This recipe is in fact included in my advanced directive.
Charred Eggplant and Tahini Spread
Adapted from Bon Appetit 2014
1 large eggplant, cut lengthwise into quarters
¼ cup olive oil, plus more for drizzling
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 clove garlic finely grated
1 teaspoon finely grated lemon zest
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 tablespoon tahini (sesame seed paste)
¾ teaspoon ground cumin
Toasted sesame seeds
Preheat oven to 475°. Place eggplant on a baking sheet and toss with ¼ cup oil; season with salt and pepper. Roast until lightly charred and very tender, 20–25 minutes; let cool slightly. Chop eggplant (skin and all) until almost a paste.
Mix eggplant in a medium bowl with garlic, lemon zest, lemon juice, tahini, and cumin; season with salt and pepper. Drizzle with oil and top with sesame seeds. This goes great with rye bread.
Ah, the eggplant. So misunderstood. So tragically underestimated. And yet, so earnest.
“The madness of an autumn prairie cold front coming through.” The first line of Jonathan Franzen’s The Corrections, a book that made me laugh for five hundred pages. The first line of the novel is a sentence fragment, rather than a whole sentence, which properly foreshadows the family dynamics of the Midwest characters. It is precisely this fragment which comes to mind each year when the summer finally ducks under the covers. There is always a day, and I think it was yesterday, when one notices that autumn has arrived. And, you think, the madness! Can I really weather another rough cold winter? The anxiety, the madness, is always met by the smell of woods, of fire smoke on a cold moonlit night, of leaves knowing new color in their last days.
It’s time for hearty food. Warm rye on bright cold mornings.
Segale con Pancetta
Adapted from The Italian Baker
Sponge
2 cups sourdough starter
3 ½ cups warm water
3 ¾ cups flour
Stir and let rest for 30 min.
Dough
¼ cup EVOO
4 to 4 ½ cups rye flour
1 TB salt
7 oz pancetta, cut into small pieces
Stir the oil into the sponge. Add rye flour and salt, slowly. Knead this massive dough lump for ten minutes, you may need to sprinkle with additional flour as it becomes tacky and elastic. Add the pancetta toward the end of the kneading (I totally forgot, and put it on top with eggs, haha.) Let rest in an oiled bowl for 1 hour until doubled, covered, of course.
Turn dough out onto a floured surface. Split the dough into two boules and lightly shape. Place into bannetons for proofing. Cover with a heavy towel and let rise another one hour. Because it is rye it will feel tacky to the end.
Bake at 400 on a hot stone for 40-45 minutes. Cool completely on a rack. I slashed mine into funky patterns. And then, because I forgot to fold the pancetta into the rye dough, I lovingly placed it on top of each slice, atop scrambled eggs. Divine breakfast. Very hearty.
We all need a little poetry in our lives, but I happen to be a person who needs a regular, and more sizable dose than the average human. It is best to neither question nor manhandle one’s given metabolism; rather, feed it.
In a book of poetry on the topic of food, I found a whole section of Summer Barbeque poems, among which I found one couplet by Erin Belieu in “Love is Not an Emergency” with an image I believe perfectly captures the Last Day of Summer:
flies ass-up in the Jell-O;
the soft bulge of thunderheads.
Depending on where you are when you read this, take with a grain of salt my suggestion that it is not too late to have one more good grill-out dinner, even if the thunderheads loom. Also, if you are not a vegetarian, it is also not too late to resolve what begrudging you have toward veggie burgers. Let me be clear that I am the LAST person on Earth to make and eat a veggie burger. The fact that I post this faux burger recipe at all is not only a huge step for me, but a magnificent endorsement. Tomorrow I’m going to tell you how the eggplant and two pattypan dreidl-squashes I ate for dinner last night blew my mind.
Bean Burgers
Adapted from HyVee Seasons
1 (15 oz) can pinto beans, rinsed and drained
1/2 c. shredded Colby Jack cheese
1/4 c. whole wheat Italian seasoning bread crumbs
2 tbsp finely chopped red onion plus 4 thin slices
1/2 tsp ground cumin
1/2 tsp garlic salt
1/4 tsp ground black pepper
1 tsp parsley flakes
1 large egg white
1 1/2 tsp vegetable oil
1/4 c. mayonnaise
1/4 c. ketchup
1 tbsp mustard
4 whole wheat hamburger buns
4 iceberg lettuce leaves
Carrot sticks, optional
In a medium bowl, mash pinto beans with a fork. Add cheese, bread crumbs, chopped red onion, cumin, garlic salt, pepper and parsley. Add egg white and stir until well combined. Shape bean mixture into 4 (1/2-inch-thick) patties.
Heat oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add patties to pan; cook 3 minutes on each side or until patties are browned and thoroughly heated.
In a small bowl, combine mayonnaise, ketchup and mustard. Place patties on bun topped with lettuce leaves, mayonnaise sauce and red onion slices. Serve with a red goddess salad.
Avocado and Shrimp Salad with Red Goddess Dressing
Adapted from Food and Wine
1 roasted red bell pepper, chopped
1 shallot, minced
1 garlic clove, minced
1 teaspoon minced jalapeño
3 tablespoons plain yogurt
1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
1/4 cup plus 1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
Kosher salt
1 head of lettuce, torn into large pieces
1/4 cup cilantro leaves
1 teaspoon fresh lime juice
2 Hass avocados, cut into wedges
1 pound cooked shrimp
In a blender, combine the roasted pepper, shallot, garlic, jalapeño, yogurt, vinegar and lemon juice and puree until smooth. Scrape the puree into a medium bowl and whisk in 1/4 cup of the olive oil. Season with salt.
In a large bowl, toss the lettuce with the cilantro leaves, lime juice and the remaining 1 tablespoon of olive oil; season with salt. Arrange the dressed lettuce, avocado wedges and shrimp on plates and drizzle with some of the dressing. Serve the remaining Red Goddess dressing on the side.
Okay, how about a Real Burger now.
Bacon Burgers with Cilantro-Yogurt Sauce
Adapted from Food and Wine
1 cup plain Greek yogurt
2 jalapeños, chopped
1 cup cilantro, chopped
1/4 cup minced fresh ginger
1/2 small red onion, chopped
1 teaspoon sugar
2 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt
2 1/2 pounds ground chuck
1/2 pound bacon, minced (1 cup)
6 scallions, white and light green parts only, minced
1/2 cup chopped mint
3/4 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese
1 tablespoon finely grated lemon zest
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon cayenne
Canola oil, for brushing
8 toasted hamburger buns
Sliced tomatoes and onions, lettuce, ketchup, mustard and Sriracha, for serving
In a food processor, puree the yogurt, jalapeños, cilantro, ginger, onion, sugar and 1 teaspoon of the salt until smooth. Transfer to a bowl.
In another bowl, mix the ground beef with the bacon, scallions, mint, cheese, lemon zest, lemon juice, black pepper, cayenne and the remaining 1 1/2 teaspoons of salt. Form into eight 1-inch-thick patties.
Heat a cast-iron griddle and brush with oil. Cook the burgers over moderate heat, turning once, until charred outside and medium within, 6 to 8 minutes.
Spread some of the yogurt sauce on the bottom buns, top with the burgers and layer with toppings. Close the burgers and serve.
As much as I hate to see barbeque season come to an end, I do love the hearty soups that follow.
Eventually I will detail how I made these delicious Honeyed Fig Crostatas, for Sourdough Surprises, my favorite online sourdough community, www.sourdoughsurprises.blogspot.com
But first, I want to wrap my Medicine Sub-I in saran with a little discussion on the aftermath of call schedules. There is a wonderful thing in medicine called the “Post-call Ritual.” For some people, this involves arriving home after an all-nighter at the hospital, peeling off ones’ scrubs in exchange for a good swaddling in Jerzees, only to fall immediately unconscious. This is called Post Call Planking. I am particularly good at it. Izzy thinks its a contest, one of the few she can easily win.
Others, and I am also among these, have some gentle wind-down activity before falling into bed. One girl I knew liked to make a pot of chamomile tea, get into her pajamas on the couch, and put a cheezy romantic comedy on TV. Some find lawn mowing ruminative and lulling. Many like to go out for post-call brunch. My post-call ritual is slowly expanding, almost to the extent that it threatens to eclipse the nap component for which it is meant to be a prelude.
Here’s the little ritual I find restful: 1) feed chickens and get eggs, 2) log eggs into my Egg Tally register, 3) check for new red tomatoes and red peppers, harvest if present, 4) return eggs and fresh produce to refrigerator, notice what else is on the brink of decay, 5) cook near-dead vegetables into some soup or salad or stir fry, 6) try new bread recipe, 7) blog while bread is rising, 8) maybe study something medicine-y, EKG interpretation let’s say, but quickly bore and find myself writing more for book #2, 9) catch up on Jimmy Fallon shows, 10) transfer bread to proof, while singing to Billie Holiday or Lake Street Dive “You Go Down Smooth” or Jack White’s “Lazaretto,” 11) realize that something may have been overlooked in the case of one of the patients I had been caring for overnight, 12) send frantic email to day team to order a test or add something esoteric to the differential, 13) return to writing, 14) bake the bread, 15) take pictures of the bread, 16) evaluate the laundry situation for my next 4 shifts, 17) notice fashion pieces I haven’t worn since the nineties and try to assemble a professional outfit around it that will allow me to wear it again at work, 18) throw the failed pieces into the Goodwill pile, 19) miss friends I haven’t talked to in a while, make a few calls, write postcards or write several long emails, 20) realize that one of the letters I’m writing would actually work much better as a poem, 21) design my Thanksgiving card and draft a poem to print on the card, 22) reorganize my stationary in the process of looking for a good card to use, 23) reread cards I have recently received from friends and organize those into my “received correspondence” file, 24) find a stray recipe Mom sent in one of her cards and start to make that for dinner, 25) oh but to make this recipe I’m going to need milk, so maybe I should go to the store, 26) remember that I have a Redbox coupon for a free movie, so at the store I pick up a movie, 27) while watching the movie, realize that it would be a great film to show for our Movie club, add to the queue, send evites, 28) wonder if the chickens have all been killed and dismembered by the possum my neighbor saw down the block yesterday, or by the hawk from last week, run outside and check for new blossoms on the eggplant and squash, 29) phew, the chickens are alive and still eating, get some more eggs from the nest, 30) Repeat. Or, nap, if it isn’t already nigh.
Actually, my last post-call day this month was interrupted by a wonderful Labor Day Pig Roast, again in our backyard, with KP’s soccer team and their magnificent trophy, and lo and behold, a miracle happened—Lucille allowed herself to be picked up by two adorable giggly girls who so badly wanted to hold a chicken like a baby doll. Lucille is beyond compare.
Save the best for last–my last post call afternoon was certainly the capstone for the season. I am thrilled to have a break now from intern schedules for several months to apply for residency and pass my board exams. Meanwhile, I recommend these crostatas for one of these Labor Day Weekend mornings—I do believe crostata is a metonym for “lazy morning.”
Honeyed Fig Crostatas
Adapted from Food and Wine
2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup plus 1 tablespoon sugar
Kosher salt
1 1/2 sticks cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
1/4 cup plus 3 tablespoons ice water
1 1/2 pounds fresh green and purple figs, each cut into 6 wedges (I used black figs)
5 teaspoons honey
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon thyme leaves, plus small sprigs for garnish
1 egg beaten with 1 tablespoon of water
In a food processor, pulse the flour with the sugar and 1/2 teaspoon of salt. Add the butter and pulse until it is the size of peas. Add the water; pulse until the dough comes together. Pat the dough into a disk, wrap in plastic and refrigerate for 30 minutes.
On a lightly floured surface, roll out the dough 1/8 inch thick. Cut out eight 5-inch rounds, rerolling the scraps if necessary; transfer to a parchment paper–lined baking sheet and refrigerate for 30 minutes.
Preheat the oven to 375°. In a bowl, toss two-thirds of the figs with 3 teaspoons of the honey, the lemon juice, thyme leaves and a pinch of salt. Arrange the figs on the dough rounds, leaving a 1/2-inch border all around. Fold the edges over the figs and brush the dough with the egg wash. Chill for 30 minutes.
Bake the crostatas for 35 minutes, rotating halfway through baking, until the crusts are golden. Let stand for 10 minutes.
Gently toss the remaining figs with the remaining 2 teaspoons of honey. Transfer the crostatas to plates, top with the figs and thyme sprigs and serve.
Happy Birthday Karl-Peter! The chickens are grateful to you for saving their lives from the hawk this week, and with this cake they give you their 10-egg salute!
Chocolate Pecan Cake with White Chocolate Mocha Sauce
Adapted from the New New Orleans Cooking by Emeril, and lovingly prepared by KP’s mother Marilyn
8 tablespoons (1 stick) plus 2 teaspoons butter, at room temperature 1 3/4 pounds bittersweet chocolate, chopped 10 large eggs, separated 1/2 cup sugar 1 1/2 cups toasted pecan pieces 2 1/2 cups White Chocolate Mocha Sauce 1 cup heavy cream, sweetened and whipped 1/4 cup chocolate-covered coffee beans Shaker confectioners’ sugar Sprigs fresh mint
For the white chocolate mocha sauce 1 cup strong brewed coffee 2 cups heavy cream 8 ounces white chocolate pieces
Grease a 10-inch cake pan with 2 teaspoons of the butter. In a metal bowl set over a simmering pot of water, melt the chocolate with the remaining 8 tablespoons butter and stir occasionally until smooth and creamy. Remove from the heat. In the bowl of an electric mixer, add the egg yolks with 1/4 cup of the sugar, beat on medium-high speed until pale and thick. In a large stainless steel bowl, whip the egg whites with the remaining 1/4 cup sugar until stiff peaks form. Slowly beat the chocolate into the egg yolk mixture (If the mixture “seizes” or curdles, add cold cream and whisk until smooth), then gently fold in the egg whites. Spread 1 cup of the pecans in the prepared pan and pour the chocolate mixture over them. Sprinkle the remaining 1/2 cup pecans over the top and refrigerate overnight. Remove the pan from the refrigerator and turn onto a serving platter. Using a warm knife, slice the cake into 12 equal slices. To serve, spoon the sauce in the center of each serving plate. Lay a piece of the cake in the center of sauce. Garnish with a dollop of whipped cream, several coffee beans, confectioners’ sugar and mint. For the sauce In a saucepan over high heat, combine the coffee and cream and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to medium. Stir in the chocolate, whisking as it melts, and simmer for 20 minutes. Serve immediately or store, refrigerated, in an airtight container for up to 24 hours. Reheat in a double boiler. Yield: about 2 1/2 cups
This was such an incredible cake, especially with the sauce. So dark and rich. KP and his mother Marilyn made it while she was visiting last week, and we sliced it with friends at Beer Church. Marilyn remains the best mother-in-law I could ever hope to have.
Don’t worry, Betty White is still with us. My husband has an uncanny gift for bird watching. We have narrowly missed horrific car accidents because instead of the road, Karl-Peter’s eyes follow the skies for unusual fowl. For years I made fun of Karl-Peter for his obsession with birds, until this weekend, when his bird savvy saved Betty White’s fluffed up life. We were sitting on the couch eating breakfast when KP’s neck straightened at something out our front window. “That bird doesn’t belong here,” he said. I smirked and went back to eating my scrambled eggs. There was a large bird on our neighbor’s front lawn. Big deal, I thought. Then KP ran out the front door. Confused, I chased him once around the house into our backyard, where I witnessed a scene that will give me nightmares for months to come—an angry-beaked hawk swooping toward Betty with murderous intent. KP threw his arms in the air and screamed, I screamed too, and the hawk nearly missed Betty’s scurrying little grey fluff by inches. We herded the girls into the coop, and there they remain, cooped up—but safe.
What to do going forward? We used to be the kind of people who were smug to say, Our chickens are free-range. Now the chickens have a tight curfew and are only free-range with chaperones. There must be some analogy to parenting here. Here is KP keeping watch over the flock. I think he should get a Chicken Lifeguard red tank top for his birthday, and a high chair with a blow horn.
All the websites I read for hawk-protection advice said, “Get a dog.” Izzy, unfortunately, sides more with the hawks. I think I have been naïve all this time to the many predators licking their chops at our chickens from above, and for all I know, below. I’ve been told I can’t shoot at hawks in town. So for now, I’m looking to invest in some chicken helmets.
And meanwhile, some sassy chicken claw heels. Thanks for the tip, Ralph.
Pane al Pepe Verde, or Green Peppercorn Bread
Adapted from The Italian Baker
2 3/4 – 3 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 cup sourdough starter
1 t. salt
2 t. olive oil
1 c. water
1 1/4 – 1 1/2 T. green peppercorns, mashed into the olive oil
Whisk flour, sourdough, and salt in mixing bowl with the olive oil-soaked peppercorns. I found mine at Penzeys Spices in Minneapolis, and good luck finding these at your average grocery store, unless you live in a thriving, multicultural metropolis. Rochester failed me on the green peppercorn front, but never Penzeys.
Knead dough by hand on floured counter briefly, and put in covered oiled bowl.
When dough has doubled, about two hours, put on floured counter and shape it into a boule. Cover with saran and a towel and let double again, about one hour.
Preheat oven to 500, put baking stone on lowest rack.
When dough has risen, make several squiggly slashes and put in oven. Spray three times with water in the first ten minutes of baking.
Immediately lower heat to 400. Bake about 35 minutes. Cool on rack. Beautiful, beautiful loaf.
Struggling to keep up with the zucchini and summer squash explosion over here. I’ve found that zucchini is a rather nonchalant addition to any baked good. Here I offer cookies and muffins! With what remains, I’m grating into shavings and packing into the freezer for mid-winter cravings of summer fresh veggies. The radish explosion is another, much sadder, story. I open the fridge each morning to droopy magenta roots and feel chagrin at having not one good part for them to play in my meal plans. Any ideas welcome.
Zucchini Chocolate Chip Cookies
Adapted from Earth Dance Farms newsletter
1 egg
½ cup butter
½ cup brown sugar
⅓ cup honey
1 Tbsp vanilla extract
2 cups flour
½ tsp baking soda
¼ tsp salt
½ tsp ground cinnamon
½ tsp nutmeg
1 cup finely grated zucchini
12 oz chocolate chips
Instructions
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F
In a medium bowl combine egg, butter, brown sugar, honey, and vanilla. Use a hand mixer to beat together until light and fluffy.
In a separate medium bowl whisk together flours, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, and nutmeg.
Add finely grated zucchini and chocolate chips to wet mixture and stir well.
Then add dry mixture to wet mixture and stir until combined.
Zucchini Muffins
Adapted from Penzeys Spices
1 Cup whole-wheat flour
2/3 Cup all-purpose flour
1/2 Cup sugar
1 TB. cinnamon
1/4 tsp. allspice
1/4 tsp. cloves
11/4 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/4 tsp. salt
11/3 Cups shredded zucchini (1 medium), peeled if desired
1/2 Cup milk
2 TB. Olive oil
2 TB. honey
1 large egg
Preheat oven to 400°. Coat 10 muffin liners with cooking spray. In a large bowl, combine the flours, sugar, cinnamon, allspice, cloves, baking powder, baking soda and SALT and mix together. Add the zucchini, milk, oil, honey and egg and mix together well. Spoon into the muffin cups, filling each about 3/4 full. Bake for 15-20 minutes until golden brown and a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean.
Drop by spoonful onto lightly greased cookie sheet.
Bake 10-15 minutes until golden brown around the edges and dry on top.
Thank you, Protein Bars. I know you’re a candy bar, and you know you’re a candy bar, but I’m glad we can share in this lie together. This month’s Sourdough Surprises challenge reminded me of this Tonight Show Thank You Note—granola bars. I’m from Portland, Oregon so granola is not only a noun but a respectable adjective to me. Tasty granola bars are indeed a challenge. I made three batches that went to Izzy and the chickens before I finally, thank God, made these.
Zucchini Cinnamon Chip Granola Bars
290g sourdough
50g shredded zucchini
125g rolled oats
150g cinnamon chips
75g honey
6 g salt
2 TB bran
4 TB flax seeds
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Stir all ingredients carefully together and spread the mush over a baking sheet on baking paper about 1 cm thick.
It works well to form a rough rectangle that is compacted and flat on top with a wooden spoon. Bake for 30 minutes. Let it cool down and cut it into triangle strips.
I picked up a copy of the San Francisco Tartine Bread book at the library because the pictures made me drool.
I had no idea it would forever revolutionize the way I make bread. No joke, no hyperbole. For real, the Tartine technique is a game changer for this baker.
First of all, the recipes utilize what’s called the “baker’s percentage.” The total flour in the recipe equals 100%, and then all the other ingredients are measured against the weight of total flour. This recipe, which, may I remind you, changed everything for the way I do bread, is thus written:
Tartine Style Country Bread
Water 75%
Leaven 20%
Flour 100%
Salt 2%
What’s brilliant about using baker’s percentages is you never need to remember cups and tbsp, or grams. You can make whatever scale of bread you want, from one loaf to thousands of loaves. This is how bakeries and boulangeries communicate recipes. Even though I only make one or two loaves at a time, I feel rather slick talking bread percentages, Oh you like this bread? It’s 75% hydration. Makes me feel like a bread engineer. For this basic recipe, I chose easy numbers so I wouldn’t need to bust out a calculator:
Water 750 g
Sourdough 200 g
Wheat flour 100 g
White flour 900 g
Salt 20 g But it wasn’t just baker’s percentages that I learned from the Tartine Bread book, they have an entirely different approach to kneading called bulk fermentation. So here’s the deal, the new deal. Roosevelt, eat your heart out.
Mix the water (all but 50 grams), sourdough and flours together. Cover with plastic in the bowl, and let REST for 40 minutes.
Then mix the remaining water and salt, and let rest for 30 minutes. Now, instead of kneading on a floured surface, every 30 minutes for 3-4 hours, you simply “turn” the dough in the plastic container. This means, you pick up one edge of the dough, and fold it on top of the rest, a motion you repeat with all four corners of the circle (I know this is an oxymoron, but you get it, don’t you?). The dough will seem very wet, like ciabatta dough.
It would be a complete mess if you tried to knead it on the counter, and there is no need to knead (smile)—this process accomplishes the same degree of development. As the dough gets more billowy and aerated, be gentle to not expel the gas from the wet dough. The volume should increase 20-30 percent, and lots of bubbles will form along the edges toward the end.
After 3 or 4 hours, lightly flour a work surface and use a knife to cut the dough into two segments. Work each half into a round boule. Then let both rounds rest on the surface, covered, for 30 minutes. Prepare two bannetons (which is a towel in a bowl, not a towl in a bowel as I originally typed the phrase by mistake, giggle), and sprinkle rice flour and wheat flour along the towel so the inverted dough rounds don’t stick. Plop them in there and let “proof” –final rise—for 3 or 4 more hours.
Heat a baking stone in the oven to 500 degrees, and put a cast iron pot inside. Be careful, but when everything is hot enough, slip the dough from the banneton into the hot pot, slash the top, and put the lid on. Put the pot back in the oven, and reduce the temperature to 450 degrees. What this does is capture the steam of the water that wants to boil out of the loaf. Steam makes an incredible crust on loaves of bread. In the past, I have been practically rusting my oven by spraying water inside while I bake. This method spares the metal of your oven, and accomplishes the same objective. Bake for 20 minutes with the lid on, and then remove the lid and bake for another 20-25 minutes. The bread will be crackling and crisp and deeply caramelized. I’ll never make bread the old way again.
My pictures are no where near as good as the Tartine Bread book, but the bread is Definitely the Best I’ve Ever Made. I feel like I can retire; there is no higher peak to climb.
You say Eggs, and I say Frittata. Watching Betty White, a chicken I have diagnosed with a functional movement disorder, chase a moth across the yard is by far the hardest laugh KP and I have had in weeks. Add to that the joy of their daily offering, and I’m thinking of rechristening our coop, “The Endorphin Factory.” The girls have been unthinkably productive—probably because every day KP makes an architectural amendment to the coop. Soon it shall have heat lamps and a weathervane. They just might evolve from laying eggs to laying diamonds.
Brussel Sprouts, Gruyere and Pancetta Frittata
Adapted from Food and Wine
1/2 pound pancetta, diced
2 shallots, halved and thinly sliced
3/4 pound brussels sprouts, halved and sliced 1/4 inch thick
Kosher salt
Freshly ground pepper
8 large eggs
2 tablespoons whole milk
1 cup shredded Gruyère cheese
1/4 cup snipped chives
Preheat the broiler and position a rack 6 inches from the heat. In a 12-inch nonstick ovenproof skillet, cook the bacon over moderately high heat, stirring occasionally, until softened, 3 to 5 minutes. Add the shallots and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 3 minutes. Add the brussels sprouts, season with salt and pepper and cook, tossing occasionally, until crisp-tender and lightly browned, about 5 minutes.
Meanwhile, in a large bowl, beat the eggs with the milk, 1 teaspoon of salt and 1/4 teaspoon of pepper. Stir in the shredded cheese and snipped chives. Pour the egg mixture into the skillet and cook over moderate heat, stirring gently, until the eggs start to set and the bottom is lightly browned, about 5 minutes. Transfer the skillet to the oven and broil the frittata for about 3 minutes, until the center is just set. Run a rubber spatula around the edge of the frittata and slide it onto a serving plate, then cut it into 6 pieces and serve.
YUM. I am not otherwise a fan of brussel sprouts, unless we are talking this kind of context.
