Snowy Interlude

Dear Mouse,

I dont know if you heard down there in FL, but it snowed a bit up here in NYC.


In honor of Snow Day, I thought I'd share the following recipe, from the Folger Shakespeare Library. It's a real recipe. I think I may try to make it. My fave is the part where you beat it with a tree branch. (And if anyone knows what a "Sillibuffi" is, contact me immediately.)

Happy New Year!

To make Snow.

Take a pint of thicke sweete Creame,
and halfe a pint of Sack* and halfe a
pound of Sugar, and the white of two Eggs
well beaten, and a pretty deale of Limon,
and mingle all this together, and put it into
a pretty big earthen Pan, or Bason, and
take a pretty big birchin rod, and beate it
till the froth doth rise, and thin take it
of with a stirre, and put it into the thing
you would have it goe in, (it should bee
a glaze Sillibuffe pot, if you have it, if not,
a white creame dish will serve: you should
lett it stand a pretty while before you eate
it, because it should sittle with a little
kindi of drinki at the bottom, liki a Sillibuffi.

Mrs. Sarah Longe, Her Receipt Booke, c.1610
* "sack" = sherry

Happy New Year! Come back so we can have a kindi of drinki.

Love,

The Boo

Subliminal Weight-Loss Tapes (Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Chocolate Croissants)

Dear Mouse,

Remember Lloyd Glauberman?

Of course you do.

In our house, there were many surprising traditions (speaking of xmas!). But two things will always stand out to me as Hart Household Staples: Diet Foods (Sugar-Free Mini-Muffin, anyone?) and Meditation Tapes.

Yes, our family believed in the power of deep breathing and visualization to treat everything from insomnia to Thanksgiving traffic. My favorite of these tapes were the mysterious Dr. Glauberman's. With names like "Excellence" and "Mind-Body Connections - Feeling Better", they featured a 'Hypno-Peripheral Processing' technique in which LG's voice would appear in stereo; telling one story in one ear of your walkman's headphones, and an entirely different story in the other. While sort of space-y New Age music played, I would drift off into a 'twilight state' leading, eventually, to sleep, or to a general well-being. I loved them.

Of course, we had other favorites. I liked Shakti Gawain's recording of her 'Creative Visualization' Meditations, featuring the Pink Bubble Visualization and others. And while in college, at home one fateful day, I discovered a random hypnosis tape entitled "Weight Loss". Mired as I was in collegiate angst and the effects of the Freshman Thirty or whatever it was, I jumped at the chance to think some more about my favorite subject at the time: calories, and how to burn them. (I am glad to say this stage is over). I tried it.

It was similar to a lot of other tapes. It asked you to visualize something you really wanted to achieve and focus on that. (Oh, while looking great). The package explained that 'certain threshold statements' were also being played at certain points in the tape, but you coudn't consciously hear them. I just hoped they weren't, like, "Fatty", or "Eat Mallomars", and pushed play.

Now I can't remember whose tape this was, or anything about it, except that ... it worked. Not in any big dramatic way. I didn't become suddenly rail-thin, or replace eating with aerobics. But I did, miraculously, notice that I would look at certain foods and think a completely new thought, "Do I really want that right now?" If the answer was no, and it often was, I would think another completely new thought, "Well, then why would I eat that? I'm trying to stay healthy/lose weight", and go on to do something else. And sometimes that was aerobics!

I wound up thinking less about food. And also being more aware of it.

Thinking less.
Experiencing more.

I asked that the tape be sent to me while I was in Ireland as an exchange student, but when I got it, I found our father had accidentally recorded over it with himself talking on the phone. Not as effective. And that was it for my subliminal life for a long while.

OK, so fast forward to last week. I have a really demanding role coming up in two months, and by that I mean it contains a scene in which I am going to have to appear onstage wearing, say, a sheet. In front of, oh, potentially most of the American Theatre. And while this is certainly exciting, it also calls for help.

Help that only one person can give.

It turns out that Dr. Lloyd Glauberman is not only still going strong, he is updated for the digital age, with CDs AND downloads for sale.

... AND he also has a new recording: "Hypno-Peripheral Processing - Weight Loss".

I figured, "It can't hurt", and I ordered it, already hearing you laughing at me. (I understand). It's pretty much what I remember - the soothing, spacey sounds, the dual doctor voices, instant twilight, no memory of what he said upon 'waking', good falling-asleep experience. I noticed some changes immediately - namely, a general sense of well-being and an increased mindfulness. An awareness of my own appetite, and the instinct to choose veggies and protein frequently. But perhaps most importantly, several days in, there was this.

No, this is not a diet croissant.

I know what you're thinking, because it's exactly what I thought, when I woke up on day 7 or so with only one thought on my mind. I had to have breakfast, and it had to be this: a warmed-up, flaky, melty, chocolate croissant. My mind protested for a moment -- "You NEVER eat these! What kind of weight-loss tape makes you crave croissants? You're just going to ruin everything". But somehow, a different voice was stronger. I went downstairs, picked up coffee, the paper, and a chocolate croissant from Le Pain Quotidien. I went back home, popped it in the oven at 250F, waited about 9 minutes.I brought back the now-gloriously puffed up and warm specimen to the table and prepared to assume the traditional furtive, "I shouldn't be doing this", croissant-eating
posture--

-- and it didn't happen. I sat up straight and calmly took a bite.

And - these experiences are always so hard to really explain after the fact - but I have to tell you I finished that croissant with only ONE thought on my mind, which roughly translates to "MMMMMMMMM!" There was absolutely, positively, no guilt, no bargaining, no Fat Thoughts AT ALL.

Happy Holidays, Dr. Glauberman! Thank you for the reminder that maybe, just possibly, one of the ingredients of a healthy bodymind is (gasp!) sincere mindful enjoyment of the Food it eats.

And though out of habit, post-croissant, I may fleetingly have thought, "well, now the day's lost'....

... it wasn't. What did I have for lunch?
(Without, I SWEAR, thinking about it and certainly not as punishment?)

A bowl of sauteed collard greens.

They were delicious too.

Love,

The Boo

Sticky, Sweet, Salty, Sour (and other words to describe the holidays)

Dear Boo,

My, how embarrassing. I've really been falling down on the job lately when it comes to cooking and writing and writing about cooking. I swear it's not ENTIRELY due to my faraway, but impending nuptuals, though I have to say, for two pretty low-maintenance people, it sure is taking us a while to figure out where the frick to get married (seriously, any ideas, people? Put me out of my misery.). There's also that little thing of school. I write to you now, still in my pajamas at 12:30, having pulled the old person version of a paper-writing all-nighter. ie, get home at 10pm, put on a pot of coffee, order some diner food, and write until 2am when the fiance is asleep on the floor, and I just can't read another sentence about theories of attachment in the infant-caregiver dyad. Ick.

The point is, it's been so busy around here that I turn around and here we are, smack in the middle of the holiday season. Thanksgiving came and went in a house in Virginia full of 26 close relatives of the fiance (13 of which are children), and a tummy full of the ubiquitous biscuits and gravy (on the MORNING of Thanksgiving, no less) and a truly decadent turkey dinner. And then Hanukkah, earlier in the season than is really fair. As if the inferiority complex wasn't bad enough in a Christmas-focused culture, here we are lighting candles before we've barely put away the leftover cranberry relish. Or at least, some of us are. I've been such a bad half Jew this year. The only time I've lit them was on the night of our family brisket dinner in honor of the holiday. For which, as per usual when it comes to our family, in a panic induced by the Mother that we may not have enough food (read: twice as much as is really necessary for any 4 person dinner.), I made some chicken.

But not just any chicken. Grandma's apricot chicken. Or an approximation thereabouts. It has been one of my very favorite comfort foods since we had it grandma's table and then at our own when mom used to make it. It's sticky and sweet, savory, salty, crispy and moist. And, as I was reminded this time around, easy. The perfect weeknight main dish, holiday or no. Thanks, Grandma. And happy Hanukkah.

Now, onto Christmas.

Love,
The Mouse


Grandma's Apricot Chicken

* I was surprised to find a similar recipe to our family version in Bon Appetit for a Hannukah menu in 2007. Apparently, we're not the only ones to find this strange mix of asian and eastern european flavors somehow appropriate for a Jewish family dinner. As my measurements and cooking times are all estimates (and rather loose, at that), you may want to refer to this one for details. I won't be hurt.

1 3lb chicken, cut into 8 pieces
1 cup apricot preserves (make your own here!)
1/3 cup Teriyaki Sauce (plus a couple of tablespoons)
1/3 cup Soy Sauce (plus a couple of tablespoons)
3-4 cloves of garlic, minced
Ginger powder (optional)
salt and pepper as needed

Marinate chicken in a couple of glugs each of soy sauce and teriyaki. Sprinkle a bit of ginger powder if you like. Add a bit of the minced garlic, reserving most for the glaze. Let sit in fridge for anywhere from 30 minutes to 8 hours.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Mix preserves, soy sauce, teriyaki, and rest of garlic in a bowl. If you're not in a rush/limiting your dirty dishes, blend this mixture in food processor until mostly smooth. Line a shallow, heavy baking pan with tin foil and sprinkle with a bit of oil. Place chicken skin-side up on sheet, and place in oven. Cook until chicken is just beginning to brown (10-15 minutes). Take out of oven and spoon glaze generously over chicken. Put back in oven. Cook until about halfway done (about 30 minutes more), turn and glaze other side. Finish cooking in oven (20 more minutes?). For last few minutes put under broiler to crisp skin a bit. Serve with anything. Lick fingers.

Bone Marrow, Chicago

Dear Mouse,

**Lack of beautiful Chicago photos in this post brought to you by Apple Computers: Planned Obsolescence. Rated G, for AnGry. (as in, my brand new iphone died with all photos in it before I could post. Ahem. )**
photo courtesy of en.petitchef.com

So it's 5AM Monday morning and Vitamin A is earning Good Guy points driving me to O'Hare Airport. We are listening to an REM compilation and talking about "Fall on Me", the first song of theirs I ever heard (age 10, Amy S.'s room, Highland Park NJ, cassette tape player). I tell him I have a vivid memory of my exact mental image while listening: that I was holding in my hands a ripe melon - coarse, scratchy, and brown outside - and prying it open to look at the fruit - rich, coral, miraculous- inside. I remember that is what I thought. Why a melon? I have no idea, especially since it was probably a cantaloupe and I've never liked them. But that's what came to mind, and it's probably my earliest food/art mental collusion.

A says "You should tell the band that. They would probably love to hear it."I fleetingly imagine doing so. (Ring, Ring. Hello? Michael? This is The Boo. Well, you dont know me, but, your song reminds me of a melon.)

Rewind to Saturday night. Date night dinner at Longman & Eagle. Scooping bone marrow and onion jam onto a toast point, Vitamin A asks me, "So do you really like to read books...about food?"

Pause to imagine a photograph here. Blustery exterior, dimly lit and gray-brown vivaciously noisy interior. Dark wood bar, friendly crowd in various jeans and sweaters. It's all very Chicago. Menu titled "EAT". Zoom in on cocktail menu titled "DRINK" and the phrase "Extensive Libations Program".

Yes, let's rewind further. Longman & Eagle, named for the adjoining street and a nearby statue of an eagle, is attracting a lot of Chicago foodie interest with its adventurous menu and casual dare I say hipster vibe. A friend of A tells me, breathlessly, that the restaurant recently earned its first Michelin star. Not too shabby.

I bypassed the "Blood and Sand" (involving scotch and 'flamed orange oil') and the "Harvest Sidecar"(applejack, pear liquor, cointreau, nutmeg) in favor of a "Hot Apple Cider" which is exactly that, if you add generous amounts of rum and applejack brandy. I watched Vitamin A peruse a list of beers with names like "Three Floyds Robert the Bruce" or "Half Acre Daisy Cutter"; I think he ended up with "Goose Island Night Stalker", but I can't swear to it.

Anyway the point is that the whole reason we are eating bone marrow (I moved on to wine at that point) is because of a book about food, which is how the subject comes up. I am so sure I remember some articulate rhapsodizing about bone marrow on toast in Ruth Reichl's memoir "Tender at the Bone" that I knew we'd have to order it. Even before I texted you, Mouse, (A: "Are you really going to text your sister about this?") for support.

It arrives - this really should not be surprising- in a bone, a thick short bone right there on your plate. It comes with warm toast, a pot of tangy red onion jam, and an overflowing spoonful of sea salt. I really, really like all of these things. So far so good. I scoop some of the - yep, that's really marrow isn't it? - creamy, translucent substance out with my knife, spread it onto the toast, dress it up, and bite in.

Vitamin A is talking about Shakespeare's Henry V, which I am about to assistant direct with a cast of 5th-7th graders (true). I reflect on how interesting it is to talk with people who a) LOVE books and literature, b) love food, c) are well-educated and well-spoken about both... yet do not necessarily see how these things could be connected. While for me, as I've said many's the time, Food and Art 'live' in the very same place. Sure, I say, I read books about food. Because they're not just about food. But food can be a language all its own, a powerful way to put the reader "there". No? I can't imagine a better description of my 'Fall on Me' experience than that imaginary melon.

But it takes all kinds. Vitamin A's response to food-in-literature is the same as my response to raisins in my baked goods and your response, at age 5?, to the freckle you found on your arm: Nooooooooo! Get it oooooofffff!

We also ate veal (because why stop at one aggressive meat) with some really stellar creamy grits, a beautiful salad with sliced apples and a melted cow's milk cheese called "Barely Buzzed" (there was pork in the dressing!!), and a main course of Maple-Braised Pork Shank (this also contained pork), which we both agreed was kind of disappointing; like they just poured maple syrup over it. But all in all a delicious meal, if a bit too sweet.

We stopped just short of the dessert menu, because I was full, A is not a dessert guy, and because the menu features - get this - gruyere donuts (!) with parmesan (!!) and "whipped citrus goat cheese" (!!!). Longman, please.

And the Item Itself? Well ... honestly: there was love, but I'm not sure if it was the marrow or its accessories. And there was the gelatinous-ness, which usually spells trouble for me. I've often said I despair of being a "real gourmet" because there are so many classics (think bleu cheese, or foie gras), that I just can't get into. And also ... it was bone marrow. I kind of couldn't get past that. So I'm not sure I'd go back. But it was exciting and new and if nothing else certainly an endorsement of Ruth Reichl's ability to turn a phrase. Perhaps sometimes the reading is better than the eating.

If, of course it was Ruth at all. I searched for that Reichl passage in order to write this post, and I just couldn't find it. If anyone has it, send along. I offer you this instead.

Well I could keep it above...
but then it wouldn't be sky anymore...
so if I send it to you, you've gotta promise to keep it whole...

Love and cantaloupe,

(and Happy Thanksgiving!!)

The Boo

15-Minute Quinoa "Risotto"

Dear Mouse,

OK, something is happening.

Perhaps it's all the changes in the air right now -- new apartment, new borough, exciting new gig coming up, and the news that the comfortable, mind-numbing day job I've had for, oh, NINE years or so is - finally! - laying me off in February. I dont know. But what I do know is that somehow, some way, I have become ... a person who cooks. (And who posts RECIPES on the blog. Not just, say, recipe links or gossip. Though that will certainly continue.)

Now I know what you're gonna say. What have I been doing this whole time with pie crusts and muffins and soup? Well, yes. But it's the realization that you can leap without a net (or a recipe) and survive. That I can make stuff up on my own.

I got so excited about my quick-and-tasty invention tonight that I actually plugged in my laptop, and started typing this post as soon as I finished... this:

When you're here, you're family.

This really took fifteen minutes to make. Ok, yes, one of the important ingredients - the "Chopping Board Pistachio Pesto" from the Splendid Table - had been prepared in advance and was waiting for me at home. BUT allow me to point out that THAT recipe came from their "Weeknight Kitchen" newsletter. It's simple and fast. So even if you do this whole "risotto" in one go, it would just be a half an hour and a bit of extra chopping.

Following some primal instinct, I picked up a can of navy beans, a jar of sun dried tomatoes, and a box of quinoa, and I made the following deliciousness in 15 minutes flat. Perhaps because of the Italian flavor palette, I really think it resembles a risotto, only lighter and packed with protein from the nuts/beans/quinoa trifecta. It's comfort food that gives you energy instead of knocking you out (risotto, for me, usually involves an early bedtime... if I make it to the bed.)

The Boo's Fifteen-Minute Job-Loss Quinoa "Risotto"

(with thanks to The Splendid Table)

Probably 1/2 C leftover Chopping Board Pistachio Pesto - ? or less, whatever tastes good

1 C quinoa

2 C water

1/2 small jar (or more if you like) sundried tomatoes in oil, chopped up

1 can navy beans, drained

sprinkling of leftover fresh thyme leaves, to taste

coarse salt and black pepper to taste

splash of red wine from the bottle you didn't finish on sunday

leftover grated parmesan from when you realized the pesto recipe doesn't call for parm

That's it.

Bring the quinoa and water to a boil on the stove. Turn down, cover, and simmer 10-15 until all the water is absorbed. While quinoa is cooking, mix the beans with the pesto in a big bowl. Add chopped up sundried tomatoes. Splash a little red wine in, sprinkle the thyme, add salt & pepper. Then spoon probably 3/4 of the quinoa (you can save the rest for something...) into the bowl while still hot, and mix gently but well. Serve with grated parmesan for sprinkling.

Here's to improvisation in the face of life's changes. Happy Thursday,

The Boo

Sausage Pancakes. Yeah, you heard me.

What's hiding under these pancakes?

Dear Boo,

I've had a quite a few million dollar ideas in my lifetime. There was the iphone app that turns the screen of your phone into a mirror for makeup touch-ups. And there was the heartbreak when I realized this already exists. And who could forget my million dollar jingle for Shout Detergent, sung to the tune of Tears for Fears "Shout" (shout, shout, get it all out! These are the stains I can do without!). SC Johnson--call me. And then there was the sausage pancake. A brilliant idea I was sure would be embraced by The Boyfriend--oops, sorry, not used to the new terminology yet--The Fiance, who has been known to douse a plate of pancakes, sausage and bacon with maple syrup, and by you, The Boo who does not fear an odd combination of pork product and sweets (see: bacon bark, and peanut butter and bacon sandwiches). And yet, when I presented this idea to the two of you, triumph ringing through in the timbre of my voice, I was laughed--LAUGHED--out of the kitchen, and it pains me to recall was met even with a flat-out, collective "EW GROSS." My pride bruised and my dreams dashed, I forced a laugh and retreated behind the proverbial diner menu of bored, traditional breakfast foods.

But, in the words of Winston Churchill, I never never never gave up.

So you can imagine I wasn't entirely shocked when I saw this:

Dunkin Donuts' Sausage Bites, "bite-sized sausage encased in maple-flavored pancake balls", a new breakfast offering which, while totally disgusting, will surely be worth at least a million dollars for the donut giant.

And so it came that this morning for Sunday breakfast, there were homemade sausage pancakes on the menu at the Mouse House. And while The Boyfriend still holds he prefers the two items intact and separate, united on his plate only by maple syrup (wrong), everyone at our table could agree the creation was delicious (And, it goes without saying, surely superior to the laboratory-created, mass-marketed crap).


Of course, poke around on the internet and it becomes very clear that I'm not the only one to have had said million dollar idea.
But no matter.
A delicious union of sweet and savory breakfast treats: One million dollars.
The feeling that comes with saying I TOLD YOU SO to all the sausage pancake haters (who shall remain named The Boo and The Boyfriend): Priceless.

Love,

The Mouse


The Mouse's Sausage Pancakes

Not that you really need a recipe...

Take 4 breakfast sausage links (we used chicken because that's what they had). Remove the casing and break up into quarter-sized chunks. Brown in a pan with a bit of oil, until cooked through.
Make batter according to package instructions. We used a Buttermilk and Honey mix from Maple Grove Farms of Vermont, but Bisquick is good too. Pour batter into the pan, and then scatter sausage bites as you would blueberries. The Boyfriend did this part, since he's the pancake maker in this house. Seriously, he's never made a less-than-perfectly round and golden brown pancake, and he does crazy-delicious things like add granola as a filling which, if you haven't tried, you should do.

Flip, and cook as you would any pancake. Keep warm in the oven while you cook the rest. 4 Sausages were plenty for the 6 large pancakes we made.

Eat with a pat of butter and generous REAL maple syrup.

Laugh all the way to the bank. Or, more likely, the couch, where you will need a nap.

Eat This Poem

Dear Mouse,

In honor of apple season, I wanted to share this poem. My friend Famous Poet Guy was commissioned by this organization to write about kids' health and nutrition. Good message, good to remember in a time when it's easy to get conned into thinking "it isn't a problem if they can't sell you the cure".

Plus that kinetic typography just looks cool.

I'm going to eat a freshly-picked apple for breakfast right about now.

Preach it, Eat it, Reheat It, Repeat it.

(See? I'm a Slam Poet Too!)

Love,

The Boo

PS. Fresh cranberries are finally in the grocery store!!! Making muffins right now.

A Brooklyn Barn-Raising (with Quiche!)

Dear Mouse,

"I like New York in... October...

How about you?"

Oh, Autumn. I think it's only fair to say that probably my next three posts will be dedicated to this, my favorite season. Anyone who is not as enthralled as I am by fiery gold and magenta trees, boots and jackets, chill winds and bright sunlight, apples and pumpkins and squash, and the subtle surge of excitement as the Wheel of the Year turns once again...

Still Life w/apples and homemade challah (or "Jewish Egg Bread" according to the recipe that came with The Poets' breadmaker. Uh-mazing.)

Oh, as if there could be such a person. (What's the Fall version of Scrooge?). Anyway, my point is that once again we have entered the glorious Season of Change, and this one is more exciting than most. First of all, there is YOUR wonderful, exciting news that "The Boyfriend" is now a free handle for use in this blog. :-) Secondly, last weekend, I attended a gorgeously autumnal New England wedding on 10/10/10 and am now convinced that the October wedding is THE way to go... and, thirdly, THIS weekend ...I made quiche.

(Oh, and I'm gonna be in my first movie. !! But you can't eat that.)

Not just any quiche. Life-affirming, celebratory, in-with-the-new quiche. Also, really really easy to make, so I thought I'd share the details.

Not far from The Mouse House, in another part of the forest, another lovely couple were preparing themselves for a new chapter. My dear friends Mr. and Mrs. Poet, who regularly welcome what seems like NY's entire literary/performing community to their Friday Night table, are about 2 months away from a more permanent form of dinner guest. One who needs a room to sleep in, with a fresh coat of paint and cute stencils on the walls. And probably one or two embarrassing, rock & roll-themed onesies. Only time will tell...

"Come help us paint", said Mrs. Poet, "and we'll feed you."

Basically, I was at the door five minutes later bearing a large box of Dunkin' Donuts from the set. (Side bar: why, WHY, is there so much of this kind of food on movie sets? Why would you lock a bunch of actresses in a room together to prepare to be in your film and then buy them pastry? It's hilarious. There is more food available than at one of our family gatherings, and no one eats. )

Mr. Poet and I rolled up our sleeves and began to paint Little Poet's room a lovely dove gray. We hauled a set of bookshelves out to the curb and stained them dark brown as the sun began to slide orangely (orangely?) down the Williamsburg sky and the building's heat clicked on.

"One more coat", said Mr. Poet, "and then let's break for dinner." I thought about how there is something really satisfying about food that is eaten after manual labor, as replenishment and reward for a tangible, self-evident job well done. I thought about Amish communities, who all get together to build somebody's house. " I feel like I'm at a barn raising", I said.

Over glasses of Mr. Poet's father's buttery-toffee-scented, peat-smokey-flavored HOMEMADE WHISKEY (which it pains me to inform you that you can't get anywhere but at their house), Mrs. Poet (she was drinking seltzer, don't worry) said "I think I'll make a quiche for dinner with the eggs from our CSA."

Crust awaiting farm-fresh friends.

When I arrived for the Barn Raising, Mr. and Mrs. Poet were already busy in the kitchen. Their kitchen table was covered with tomatoes, potatoes, prune plums, turnips, a golden, dusty head of garlic, and a carton of eggs of delightfully varying sizes. It was their latest Farm Share haul, and they were sorting it into piles to muse on before tucking away into the fridge. Mouse, when I move back to your hood, we need to go in on a CSA together. It's crazy not to. For the uninitiated, a CSA (Community-Supported Agriculture) is a win-win situation where, for a yearly fee, you get to pick up a 'share' of fresh vegetables, fruits, eggs and/or even meat, sometimes flowers, that come straight from local farms. As the East Williamsburg CSA site says, "you are purchasing a direct link to the freshest local produce, providing farmers with much-needed capital at the beginning of the growing season, and investing in sustainable farm practices". Further info is at many web sites, but here's one for NYC folks, for starters.

AND more to the point.... you can taste the difference.

Farm-Share, Baby-Welcoming, Fresh-Egg Quiche with tomatoes, cheddar, and some kinda greens, I forget what, I was so enthralled with the taste of the eggs. Hard to describe, just delicate, super-fresh, and HEALTHY. And as always when eating REAL FOOD, I wondered "why would you eat anything else?"

This quiche was made out of local eggs and tomatoes (& store-bought grated cheddar thrown in, but it could easily have been farmer's market goat cheese, picked up on the way home from work). And - as all cooking is when you have stellar ingredients - it is SO, SO EASY. Mrs. Poet taught me this trick for the filling: Break the eggs into a measuring cup and whisk them. Then, just thinking "1/2 cup milk per egg" (because it doesn't actually measure out that way), pour milk into the same measuring cup til it reaches that line. ie, if you're using 4 eggs, pour in the milk til the "2 Cup" line has been reached. Then, whisk to combine and pour into a bowl.

Then, put ANYTHING you want in with the egg mixture -- a package of grated cheese, diced tomatoes, chopped fresh herbs, salt & pepper --- to heck with measurements - and pour it all into a prepared pie crust (yes, you can buy one). Bake it at 350 for probably 30 min (check at 20) or until a fork inserted in middle comes out clean and it isnt runny. Serve with a big green salad, and of course, movie-set-reject donuts afterwards. Expectant Moms will thank you.

What? What did I say? No pressure.

:-)

Love,

The Boo