Cranky has taken over the kitchen. He's always been very useful, resourceful, creative in there. Now he's God. (Don't tell Eric Clapton.)
I've been "off" food, and if it weren't for Cranky, I'd be living on gummy bears.
So what if the last three meals were eggy? Eggs are good, and take it from me, not always easy to cook well.
Somebody in the house cooks eggs well, and I think it isn't yours truly, madly. I do OK, but have you ever heard of the Two-Sentence Poached Egg?
First of all, the photo is today's lunch of a frittata filled with chopped spinach, shallots and smoked ham. Artfully arranged atop a spill of tomato sauce. I didn't take pictures of yesterday's fried rice with egg and veggies, or yesterday's poached egg atop polenta. Because the damn cook did such a good job, I was punishing him by no piccies. (OK, I am not that merciless a wife. No piccies because too lazy.)
Here's the story of the Two-Sentence Poached Egg.
Cranky thinks he can barely remember if he's ever poached eggs in his previous life as a pretty decent cook. So he asked me how to do it, while I cuddled the puppy in bed.
I could go into detail of what I told him, but you all have your own methods, so who cares? I told him how I do it, really, really briefly.
In a couple of minutes, he came back and asked how long they should stay in the simmering water. I told him my opinion, which made him run back to the kitchen and save the (dammit!) yolks-still-runny, whites-perfectly-jelled eggs. In time. Pulled them out, blotted them and blopped them on the steaming, creamy polenta.
It's not supposed to happen this way.
But if you don't think I'm glad, you're mad!
I'm so glad.
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9 comments:
Glad to hear Cranky's taking the reins, someone should cook even if you don't feel like it. (I should know, I am just getting over THE flu (fie) and didn't want to eat or cook a thing. Poor family.) And...ain't nothing to sneeze at, the ability to do eggs well!
Your instructions must be word-perfect though if they turned out perfect poached eggs.
It seems life is pretty nice lately. I'm glad.
Wait a minute. Surviving on nothing gummy bears is a bad thing? Huh.
And I always knew that Cranky was an egg god after learning his method for the perfect boiled egg.
Nothing wrong with a diet of eggs and gummi bears, so long as there are puppy (or kitten) cuddles too.
If you don't mind me asking, why are you off food?
El: THE flu? So glad you are recovering. Warm hugs.
And, yeah, I did feel a little glimmer of pride that I "taught" Cranky to poach eggs in two sentences. :)
Denise: I'm not even afraid of winter this year. Things are nice.
Kailyn: Gummy bears = the food of bulimic ballerinas. Yes, Cranky is the egg god; so glad you found success with his method.
Mouse: Not too bad a diet. It even cheers me up for more food.
I didn't tell you, but we considered a kitty (instead of a puppy). But dogginess won out. Happy cuddles to you.
Spiteful: I think that's a fair question. It seems I've been suffering from gluten-intolerance for several years without knowing it. Eating made me sick, and therefore I began to hate eating. I'm dealing with my new diet (which, frankly, terrifies me, so there's more trouble). Thank goodness for Cranky and the eggs.
Sorry that you've been miserable with food! Getting sick when you eat surely would make me have an aversion too. Great that Cranky's being creative, and this dish looks delish! I also do a lot of egg type dishes. This morning I made one with basil and tomato from my deck. That makes it doubly yummy.
Anna: Yes, and remember our eggs in tomato sauce? Eggs is good food. And it's so great to have an appetite.
Your could have BOTH you know!
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