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Archive for the ‘egg’ Category

springcomb

A client, local to Toronto, once joked with me that spring in Ontario was not so much a soft and gentle, new born lamb frolicking in a pretty green meadow, chasing little yellow butterflies as it is a stripper suddenly removing all her clothes.  I know, the image is rather vivid and lewd, but you get the idea and it’s pretty much spot on.  The end of Winter here is a long, shuffling commute of faceless pedestrians huddled into long, dark grey coats walking down an endless road and boarded by tall, dark buildings under a heavy, humourless sky.  Suddenly, through a little break in the clouds, a single ray of watery sunlight shines down on one of those faceless coats and exposes a slither of pretty ankle escaping out past the hem.  The crowd stops.  The shuffling dwindles and every face in that homogeneous, grey sea lifts from the folds of their coat and turns to look at that bit of humanity exposed in the sun.  Then, without warning, the sky breaks open and the woman of the ankle flings open her coat to reveal a body, young and lithe, wrapped only in shimmering, translucent, fuchsia silk.  The coat falls around her feet like a dust cloth removed from a painting and she steps away from that dead, lifeless garment without looking back, her face in the sun, her limbs exposed and dancing now, in slow fluid movements. As she dances on, moving down the street, her joie de vivre infects those around her like a contagious disease and one by one the coats fall to the floor until the street is alive with dancing and colour and sunshine.

Welcome to Toronto, the Caberet of Spring.

And to celebrate a little Quiche, yes?

quiche-mush-leek-ham-combo

Leek, Mushroom and Ham Quiche

For the Pastry:
1 cup whole wheat flour
½ tsp salt
¼ tsp sugar
¼ tsp tarragon
¼ tsp thyme
½ cup cold butter, chopped into 1cm cubes
80ml cold water

for the filling:
1Tbsp olive oil
1 tsp butter
1 large leak, thinly sliced
1 brown onion, finely chopped
150g mushrooms, sliced (I used shitake and portobello)
3 or 4 slices ham, chopped (I used black forest ham)
½ cup cream
½ cup milk
3 eggs
salt and pepper to taste
¾ cup Gruyer, grated

– to make the pastry: whisk the dry ingredients together

– rub the butter into the flour until it looks like course oatmeal

– add the cold water and mix just long enough to form a dough

– wrap the dough in plastic and refrigerate for at least a half hour

– preheat the oven to 350˚F

– roll the dough out on a floured surface to line a 25cm quiche tin

– bake blind for 10 mins

– while the quiche shell is cooling, heat the oil and butter in a frying pan and saute the leeks, onions and mushrooms until soft

– Beat the eggs with the milk, salt and pepper and then add the cream

– fill the quiche shell with the onion-mushroom mixture, the ham and then top up with the eggy cream.

– sprinkle the Gruyere cheese over the top

– bake at 350˚F for about 35 mins, until the cream is just set

– allow to cool for 10 mins before serving, preferably with a light salad

quicke-mush-leek-ham1

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Scrambled eggs with proscuitto and Etorki

So, we moved. And as anyone who’s moved will know, it’s always a bit of both worlds: it’s exciting, but it’s not usually a lot of fun until a couple of weeks after the fact. This move was, however, something special. And I mean not so much in the way of, “oh, a puppy for my birthday? That’s so special!” but leaning more to the, “she took your whole closet and put it through a garbage disposal? Wow, that’s special.” We arrived in good time, with the Big Burly Boys who were carrying all our Stuff, to a house full, from attic to basement, with contractors and all their various paraphernalia. Not only did we have to compromise on where we were allowed to put our boxes and furniture, but we had to put up with nearly a week of work still to be done before we could start unpacking. That being said, we just know we’re going to love the house, and all the headaches will be worth it in the end. I have a new oven and hob to get used to and test out and a bunch of recipe ideas wafting around in my head, where they’ve been collecting dust over the last few weeks. What I really need, though, on this chilly November day, is a hot, creamy plate of scrambled eggs, all the more delish with some prosciutto and Spanish Etorki cheese, fresh baguette, a cup of hot coffee and some fresh fruit juice. Funny how a good breakfast makes it seem all just so much better, non?

Scrambled eggs with proscuitto and Etorki 2

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the perfect apple

I received a phone call from a wonderful friend the other day. “I’m so excited,” she quirped, ” I’m outside a fruit stall and I’ve found the most perfect apples. They’re just too beautiful, I’m going to buy you one.” My kind of friend. And she was right. When we met up later at the Farmers Market, which has sort of become a naughty habitude of ours, she plonked her find down on the picnic table we were sitting at, snacking on various freshly bought goodies, and grinned at me. “Don’t you think?” she asked. I did. I thought very much. Just perfect. It’s colour somewhere between ochre and chartreuse, the size of a softball, and firm and crisp in texture. I got home, gave it pride of place in the fruit bowl and spent 2 days looking at it before deciding just what would be the perfect ouvre for this perfect apple. A perfect, early autumn apple. A bread pudding perhaps? Could it be that simple?

So, the problem I’ve always had with bread pudding is that it often felt like some sort of punishment at home. I was known, as a child (and sometimes as an adult), for living with ‘my head in cloud nine’, as my Mum would say. There were plenty occasions growing up where I left my lunch behind on the kitchen counter: peanut butter and jam sandwiches neatly wrapped in wax paper; only to find, later that starving day, that we were having bread pudding for dinner. Peanut butter and jam bread pudding. Needless to say, it’s taken me a bit of time to confront the bread pudding demon from my past and establish that it is, indeed, one of the greatest of comfort puddings known to man. And downright thrifty too, if you don’t mind me saying. In fact, I might go so far as to say that bread pudding is quite possibly the only acceptable way to head into autumn. An army marches on its stomach, after all. Best be prepared, non?

Apple nut bread pudding

Apple and Four Nut Bread Pudding

feeds 4 (or 2 with leftovers for round two the next day)

4 slices whole grain bread
butter, enough for spreading bread, greasing dish and dotting on pudding
6 – 8 Tbsp sweetened Chestnut Spread (creme de Marrons)
1 big (perfect) apple, peeled, cored and sliced (I ate the perfect peel, don’t you worry)
½ cup saltana’s
4 large eggs
½ tsp cinnamon
½ tsp clovesCreme de marrons
pinch nutmeg
pinch salt
¼ cup golden brown sugar
1 cup milk
¼ cup chopped walnuts
¼ pistachio’s

– preheat the oven to 400˚F

– thinly butter the bread and spread with chestnut spread. Cut slices into quarters, diagonally, to make tirangles

– grease an oven proof dish. Alternate slices of bread and slices of apple to fill the dish.

– scatter saltana’s over top

– beat eggs with spices, salt and sugar, then add milk and beat well but not long enough to froth the eggs.

– pour milk/egg over bread. Scatter nuts over top and let pudding sit for 5 minutes. This lets the bread absorb the liquid.

– bake for about 35 – 40 mins.

– serve with vanilla ice-cream or whipped cream.

Apple nut bread pudding baked

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Lime curd

Limes

I love lime curd. I love lemon curd too. They answer the call of both my sweet tooth and my tart tooth in one, goopy, slurpy go. The first time I made lemon curd, as a teenager, I was so astounded at how good it tasted and how simple it was to make that I wolfed the batch down over just a few afternoons, straight from the jar, no doubt sitting on our sundeck with my feet dangling in the pool, still in my school uniform. Sorry, Mum. I’m still thrilled every time I make a citrus curd by its seemingly complex and yet comfortingly old fashioned nature. It’s really so simple to make, takes almost no time, and can absolutely not be compared in the least to the gelatinous, pasty excuse sold in jars on the shelf. This is truly delicious sandwiched between two Victoria Sponges, as a topping on fairy cakes or spread on hot toast. Or, you know, with a teaspoon and a contemplative mood.

Lime curd 2

Lime Curd

makes about 650 ml

1 stick butter
6 large eggs
½ cup caster sugar
1 cup freshly squeezed lime juice (I used 6 limes)
zest from 2 limes

– put the butter in a medium, heavy bottomed sauce pan and melt over a low heat

– in a mixing bowl, beat the eggs with the sugar and lime juice until frothy

– strain through a sieve, then add zest

– add to melted butter and whisk over a medium-low heat until a custard consistency is reached.

– bottle in sterilized jars and cool before refrigerating.

Lime curd

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