Monthly Archives: December 2014

Absurdly Indulgent Breakfast Casserole

I swear, no one but me likes this, pretty sure it’s because they’re all better at self-preservation.  But I’m allowing this slow death through heart disease, so I LOVE it.

FAT Eggs

2 TBLS flour

1 tsp baking powder

1 tsp salt

1 tsp black pepper

6 eggs

1 Pint (yes, that’s two cups) heavy cream

8 oz shredded sharp cheddar cheese, or, frankly, more

lots and lots of chopped scallions, like half a cup of the green part or quarter cup of green and scant quarter cup of the white part

greased 9 or 10 inch casserole dish (or equivalent, like 7 X 11 inch); and, preheat oven to 350 degrees

In large bowl whisk together dry ingredients, and add one egg, then the second egg.  It will be thick and ugly, but blend well, and add another and another egg as seems smooth to do so.  When all eggs are incorporated, add the heavy cream slowly.  When all is smooth, pour into your prepared dish.  Cover with cheese.  Cover that with scallions.  Place in oven, and, depending on the dimensions of the dish, bake for 30-50 minutes.  You’ll know when it’s done– it smells amazing, and the edges are browned, but also the middle is jiggly but set.  Let cool for at least 15 minutes before cutting.  Serves 6.  Or 4.  Or, over the course of a couple days, if I’m honest, one.

Merry Rictus!!

In my next life I’m a guy, for one, and devoutly Jewish, for two.  There’s a gender- and culture-specific kick in the ass about this holiday that makes me manic and unpleasant, and I’d like to avoid that when reincarnated.  For several years I have said I will, I will, I will take more time off before the holiday next year, and ultimately I do take some time off, but only in response to a last-minute panicked review of all that needs doing before guests are due to arrive at my house.  Did I say guests?  I mean family— so, if family, why so uptight?

Growing up, our drab, dull, charcoal and brown and 1970’s decor sloppy messy house was, at Christmas, made special.  Good smells, brighter lights, Bing Crosby and a blinky candy cane at the front door.  There was candy, there were cookies, there was a swollen feeling of plenty.  Good cheer seeped throughout that ugly house.  I enjoy remembering that even now.

I want that for the prince.  And I’ve learned that I’m not my mom, with her blithe talent for taking humble bits and making them, McGyver-like, into classic confections and charming decor.  I have to work at it, sloppily, badly, gracelessly; I have to buy more to compensate for the lack of organic tradition and natural talent.  That takes time.  That steals sleep. That creates panic.

It’s not the portrait of the perfect family, the facebook photo, that I’m after.  I don’t care how this LOOKS– I’m wanting the prince to feel a certain way, and to remember this in thirty or forty years.

(…hopefully he remembers the effect, not the grouchy grimace of the queen of bad planning…)

 

…thanks all for checking in from time to time, and best wishes for a Happy New Year…!