Mr. O's eggs

Well, friends, it has been way too long since I've been around here. There's been work, Po life, a great big adventure of a trip, an engagement (!), and summer has just barely started...

Leave it to my consuming affection for eggs to bring me back, of course.

I've also been trying to eat more veggies these days. Something to do with say, goofing around in Italy for a few weeks eating nothing but delicious cheese and mountains of pasta, often both at once (I'm looking at you, Cacio e Pepe.) After all that extravagant richness, it's a bit of a relief to have a simple, healthy meal that won't put me to sleep right away. And the fact that this dish looks beautiful, and impressive, and is really, really spoon-licking delicious? All a bonus, I say.

I call these "Ottolenghi" eggs, after Yotam Ottolenghi and his amazing cookbook Plenty. I like to like Mr. O for his inspired Middle Eastern/British/North African combinations, as well as for his more recent focus on vegetable-centric cooking. (He's not a vegetarian, and clearly, neither am I. But, boy, does this guy know his way around eggplants, and lentils, and broccoli. Trust me, you will want to eat your veggies after reading Plenty.)

Mr. O's dish is called Shakshuka. It's a North African recipe, an all-in-one gently spiced red pepper and tomato stew, finished with gently poached eggs cooked right in the sauce. Serve topped with tons of freshly chopped coriander and warm crusty bread (or fresh corn tortillas in my case, if you're feeling fancy).

Adapted from Yotam Ottolenghi's Plenty

Shakshuka

Pinch whole cumin seeds
Olive oil
1 onion, sliced
1 red pepper, sliced or diced into small pieces
1 tsp brown sugar (I used amber agave syrup)
1 bay leaf
2-3 thyme sprigs
1 large ripe tomato, roughly chopped
(pinch saffron threads, optional - I used a pinch of turmeric here)
pinch of cayenne
water
salt and pepper
4 eggs

Chopped fresh parsley and/or coriander and/or green onions

The first step is to make the slurpy, thick, saucy goodness. (This part can be done ahead of time, if you like.)

In a medium pan over high heat, dry toast the whole cumin seeds until they smell fragrant, about a minute. Add the oil and onions; sauté until soft and starting to colour. Add the pepper, sugar (or agave) and the herbs. Cook over high heat for another 5-7 minutes. Get some real roasty colour going on, it'll give your final sauce some personality. Add the tomato (watch the splatter!) and the saffron/tumeric and cayenne. Turn the heat down to medium low and cook out for another 10 minutes. While you stir now and again, add a bit of water so that your mix has a nice chunky thick pasta sauce consistency. Season sauce with salt and pepper.

When you're ready to serve:
Ideally this works in two small cast iron pans. If you don't have some (D seems to collect them at our house, we're strange that way) a single medium sized, heavy bottomed, deep-ish frying pan will certainly do.

Remove the bay leaf and thyme sprigs. Divide the pepper mix into two pans. Place them over medium heat to warm up the sauce. Make two wells in each pan; carefully break an egg into each well. Cover the pans with lids, and cook gently over medium-low heat until eggs are as cooked as you like them. It should take around 10 minutes (I like my yolks barely set).

Season the eggs with salt and pepper, and top generously with chopped fresh greenery.

Makes two hungry-sized portions.

breakfast #3

Being the egg lover I am, I was tickled pink to receive this cute-as-a-button set over the holidays, courtesy of the sweet boy.

(He likes to joke that I'm happiest when I'm eating. I might, if I were the sensitive type, get offended if it wasn't so entirely true...)

Seriously, though. Doesn't this just make you smile?

The egg cup must be one of the best little inventions in the world, if only as an accessory that an devoted egghead (eggophile? eggoist? hee hee, it's just too silly) can appreciate. What other food demands its own tiny pedestal on which it can be worshipped, really?

tap, tap, tap...

A great gift for the great ritual of eating a breakfast of a soft boiled egg. Thanks, D!

in mind's eye

I love collecting images for my personal version of the "lookbook" for those blue-sky, ideal-world moments...so necessary when the days start getting colder and darker (like at five, what?!) and bright moments of inspiration become even more welcome than usual.

Every now and then, I get jolted by such delicious images that I can actually taste them in my head! This month's issue of Donna Hay magazine (the queen bee of food porn, to be sure) had me with the oozy quail egg and buttery, garlic laced pasta. Totally my kind of plate...is there anything better than a good butter pasta, I ask you?

And it just gets better inside...

Anyone who knows me will tell you just how much I adore cured/smoked salmon. Growing up, my Aunt W used to joke that I must be part grizzly bear as she handed over my traditional Christmas present...of a whole side of smoked salmon!

Oh the joys of a visual "cookbook" meal - almost as good as the real thing.

before...

(or the gift that keeps on giving...)

...and after.

memories of a wee bit of tea

The other day D was telling me about one of his childhood taste memories - his mom's homemade yogurt (lucky guy, huh?) scooped into a kiddie bowl, sweetened with greedy little spoonfuls of dark strawberry jam. A bit of swirling, slurping and happy times...mmmm!

Which got me thinking...

I've been a pretty active (enthusiastic? affectionate, perhaps?) eater these last three decades, and so have many, many madeleines, so to speak. The funny thing is, is that sometimes I blur my real memories with ones that I'm sure I haven't experienced myself, but rather have read in novels or seen in movies...tell me I'm not the only one?

A real memory: we have a bottle of chili oil (at my mom's house, kept in the middle door shelf of the fridge), of indeterminate age and provenance, although early 80's chinatown might be accurate, whose greasy orange label and fiery, sinus clearing, vaguely medicinal taste instantly reminds me of my dad's sunday afternoon ritual of noodle eating. Whether it was the instant Ichiban or the fancy fresh kind, he'd always douse his steaming bowl of soupy noodles with great rust-coloured lashings of that crazy oil. And then proceed to turn an alarming shade of purple and red. I was pretty little then, but I'm almost positive I remember hearing him swear under his breath, while inhaling deeply and nodding his head, right before throwing down another fire laced spoonful into the bowl.

The other morning, though, I had a funny, vaguely familiar recollection as I puttered about making some tea and eggs for breakfast. I'm really enjoying the super strong breakfast tea these days. I poured my cuppa and added the milk, and all of a sudden thought of a scene from Angela's Ashes. (I have to admit that I'm usually terrible at remembering names, events, sometimes even whole days, unless there's food involved, in which case, I'm your girl!)

These guys, by the way, are pretty much the most incredibly delicious eggs I've come across in awhile. Deep orangey yolks and all...

Another little treat I picked up, made from pastured cows in Quebec, lovely golden yellow creamy butter, mmmmm....

I remember being struck by one particular scene in the story where the main character, who has spent his childhood poor and constantly starving, living off of stale bread and strong milky tea (and in one melodramatic case, licking the grease from old fish and chip newspapers), is dreaming about the most outrageous of treats: a boiled egg.

I look at my brother Malachy. Did you hear that? Our own egg of a Sunday morning. Oh, God, I already had plans for my egg. Tap it around the top, gently crack the shell, lift with a spoon, a dab of butter down into the yolk, salt, take my time, a dip of the spoon, scoop, more salt, more butter, into the mouth, oh, God above, if heaven has a taste it must be an egg with butter and salt, and after the egg is there anything in the world . . .

And egg lover that I am, I haven't ever quite gotten that image out of my head. Funny how some things stick, isn't it?

And so, my new morning treat these days is a strong cup of breakfast tea and a little boiled egg. With butter and salt, of course.

lazy meal

A quick, light dinner for me tonight. My week started off with a bang - in the form of a staff meal named Porktine, yes that's poutine smothered in pulled pork, soo good - and I've been craving veggies ever since.


I do love those soft boiled eggs....

kitchen tour: oyster plate

There are just some things in this world that are so ludicrously decadent, so obviously, campily chic, that to offer them - in this case, in the perfect trifecta of oysters, bubbly and caviar - all at once, is almost laughably redundant.

With this tasting menu, there is an option to up the ante with an extra course of pure food bling and loooove.

Of course, we'll be having the oyster plate! With the caviar business! And the champers! (After all, we like sunshine and rainbows and kittens, don't we?)

Yes...Bring. It. On!

Cast irons/sizzle plates awaiting blini-ing. D, the sous, asks, "You keeping an eye on that?"



Hot plate seasoned and ready to go.



Ooh, a whole lotta blini love!

Quick question: why is it that so many things taste better in miniature? Don't dig a whole house of pancakes, but a stack of blini, that I could crush. (Of course, it does help that they come with chives and caviar. Mmmm, imagine, IHOB...)

St. Simons awaiting their accessories. Back: dressed with aged sherry mignonette.




What could make this even better? Why, that would be itty bitty quail eggs! Yesss!




Freckled and speckled, like graffitied faberges.



Need a sharp little paring knife to crack them open.




Into the poaching vessels they go (those would be tart shells "borrowed" from pastry station).




It's almost bathtime...




McGyvering the poach - mason jar rings holding tart shell, suspended by perforated hotel pan over water bath!



And out the eggies come...



The two tiered platter. Top: Taro dauphines, chive creme fraiche (caviar to follow), blini with radish (quail egg and caviar, likewise). Bottom, L to R: St. Simons with bacon vinaigrette, aged sherry mignonette, preserved lemon puree and green oil.



I think I could eat a whole platter of these by myself....



A few finishing touches...



And away for pick up...

Sigh. Isn't it all so lovely? Here's wishing you these champagne dreams and caviar wishes...

Next course, the mains!

an ode to the egg

So you may have noticed that I'm pretty much obsessed with eggs - maybe just a wee bit more than cheese, or bacon, or avocados, ok, so I love those too - who can pick a favourite child, really?

I did, in fact, initially consider naming this blog in honour of the incredible, edible egg, ("The Banana and the Egg" was one idea - very nerdy, I know, after the boy and I - but then I realized that I'd be the banana, no fun!) so great is my love for this most versatile and often overlooked ingredient.

I decided on "This Little Piggy" simply because that's the nickname my dad gave me when I was barely knee high. Apparently even then I was quite the curious kid when it came to mealtime, asking for pho with extra rare shaved beef as a sunday treat and freaking my mom out with my requests for oysters and steak tartare for my 8th birthday dinner.

It was my dad who sold me on the simple things, walking before running, as it were. In his mind, an egg was not just an egg, it was a means for me to learn how to begin at the beginning, understanding the small before attempting the big. And, ah so, I was his little grasshopper, his little piggy, eating my way through the lessons.

To this day, I still love everything about the egg. And about keeping it simple!


Simple Arugula Salad with Soft Poached Egg

a single, lovely egg, freerange and organic if you can swing it
2 small handfuls baby arugula, rinsed, dried off and kept crisp in the fridge
nice wedge of Parmesan cheese, for shaving (the more the merrier, in this case)

a good quality extra virgin olive oil
lemon juice, or white wine vinegar
flaky sea salt and pepper

First off, get a small pot of water on to poach your egg. Your vessel of choice should ideally be just big, low, and wide enough for you to slide in said egg easily - like slipping into a hot bath - and comfortably retrieve it with the slotted spoon you have standing by.

Season your simmering water with just a dash of vinegar and/or lemon juice; this helps keep the egg white together while it poaches, rather that floating prettily away like so much egg drop soup.

Gently slide your egg into the barely simmering water. Wait a moment to let things set a touch; give the liquid a slight stir if the egg needs a bit of coaxing to hold its shape.

Lovely baby arugula, ready to be dressed.

As it poaches away, assemble the rest of the salad. In your bowl of choice, toss together your arugula with a light drizzle of olive oil and a very small squeeze of lemon juice (or a little drop of vinegar, if that's what you're using). Season your leaves with a pinch of salt and pepper; toss lightly with your fingertips until everthing is just barely slicked.

As the saying goes, a great salad should be dressed like a beautiful woman; adequately, but lightly.

Use a vegetable peeler or grater to shave your parm over the dressed greens.

By now, your egg should be done. (The whites will be, well, white, but still quite tender, encasing your lovely soft-set yolk. Yum.) Remove with your handy slotted spoon, blot gently to get rid of any excess liquid; set in your awaiting nest of arugula and parmesan shavings.

Another great thing; the warmth of the egg ever so slightly wilts the arugula...delicious!

Drizzle over a touch more of that olive oil. A pinch of crunchy salt and a turn of pepper should do the trick as well.

Again, one of my favourite things, ever. The poking of the yolk; so satisfying!

A great, easy way to get your greens too...eat up, eat up, it's good for you! Enjoy....

ladies who brunch

When the power of Facebook is used for the purposes of good (rather than evil, in the form of say, massive procrastination or album/wall post lurking), this is the kind of magic that you hope for.

I'd be hard pressed to imagine that our scrappy childhood group of best girlfriends, riding bikes into ravines and saving our allowances for hot lips from Macs Milk, would nearly two decades later be sitting in a lovely restaurant downtown, chatting about making each other mix tapes (in 1992, I might add) over a very grown up brunch.

For your Friend Finder button, Facebook, we salute you!

Jamie Kennedy Wine Bar was a great meeting spot, easy to get to for those coming in from out of town. We'd all tried meeting for a few casual dinners before, but have since decided that brunching, with all its Sunday lazy-day connotations, is definitely the way to go. (Carrie Bradshaw and the girls would be so proud!)

After hemming and hawing over the delicious sounding menu (your choice of not one, but two of the small sized mains for $20; decisions, decisions) we finally placed our orders and got down to the business at hand; catching up and good ol' fashioned girly gossip.

Pistachio Sticky Bun and Chocolate Brioche with House-Made Marmalade and Creme Fraiche: After

So I'm afraid that this picture doesn't do the warm butter-scented plate justice, basically because the cute sticky bun was so darned tasty that we all tore into it like the pastry savages we are. The rich muffin-sized, molten chocolate-filled brioche fared a similar fate, this time torn and smeared with zesty orange marmalade before scarfage.

Ham Ragout on Soft Polenta with Organic Egg

Of the five of us, four ordered this "eggs and ham" dish. For the first time since we sat down, it was at this point where nothing was heard save the satisfying sound of egg yolk poking (one of the best sensations ever, I think) and cutlery being used to shovel the salty pork and creamy pudding-like polenta into our faces.

Sheep's Milk Cheddar and Apple Sandwich on Raisin Bread

These came with spicy house made pickles. The apple and cheese sandwiches were done "en Carozza", or "in carriages", that is, dunked in beaten eggs and pan fried...like having raisin bread french toast and a grilled cheese sandwich at the same time! Totally genius.

Warm Tartelette with Smoked Cheddar, Roast Garlic and Cured Tomatoes

I didn't actually eat this one; all I know is that this smelled and looked like a heavenly little quiche. I swear I could hear the light flaky crunch of the tart as A cut in with her fork to reveal the soft, eggy innards.

We were definitely on a roll now, and we're not even talking about the food! We covered J's growing baby bump, names we liked (Madeleine, Audrey - of course) and those we were wary of (Joachim, Elody, anything that ends with an i), Earth Hour, plane crashes, our parent's old houses, muffin tops, A's dinner party that nearly ended with her bookshelves catching on fire, all in between bites of our lovely, mostly ladylike brunch.

Sheep's Milk Yoghurt with Preserved Fruit and Granola

One of my favorite things for breakfast is yogurt and granola. This version was super yummy because I'd never tried sheep's milk yogurt before. It's quite tangy and thick, which made it very easy to eat with the sweet poached pears and crunchy walnut granola. I think I could eat this every morning, actually.

Walnut and Raisin Bread Pudding with Chantilly Cream

Now this crazy little number was what put us over the edge. Mmm, bread pudding. There's nothing quite like a slab of dense, custardy, caramel soaked goodness to put you straight into a food coma. Good thing we had plenty of coffee and sparkling conversations about boob jobs and sports to keep things lively!

Thank you, lovely ladies for a great afternoon... until we brunch again!

Jamie Kennedy Wine Bar
9 Church Street
416 362 1957