A Surplus of Eggs

I have a confession to make; until last Sunday, I had never made anything in the quiche/frittata family, at least not on my own. My eggs are normally scrambled, fried, or in an omelet, and I'm really good at making them those ways! I always thought quiches and frittatas sounded like a lot more work. Also, I've certainly consumed my share of dried out or rubbery baked egg dishes, so I haven't necessarily been longing to try my own.



But peering into my refrigerator this past Sunday, it became very apparent that I had a surplus of eggs. Two almost-full cartons, in fact, and there was no way we were getting through all of those by way of scrambled eggs and omelets. I also had various accoutrements that happened to sound very good with eggs; prosciutto, spring onions, green garlic, asparagus, lots of cheese, and even a little milk! After verifying that the standard method is "pour it in a pan and stick it in the oven," I set about preparing the various ingredients. I eyeballed the amounts, used ALL 23 eggs, and after 45 minutes in the oven it was puffed and golden and gorgeous. I still love all my usual egg preparations, but honestly the pride I felt pulling this out of the oven was so much greater...I felt bad-ass!

It held up beautifully as leftovers - good thing, since it took us 3 days to finish it - but I definitely recommend reheating in the oven/toaster oven versus the microwave, which can make it rubbery. My only negative observation was that all the good "stuff" in it rose to the top during cooking, so there was a layer of just egg at the very bottom. This wasn't a big deal, but makes me wonder about proportions...maybe more "stuff" and less egg next time!




Asparagus Frittata

23 eggs (this was a very large frittata; you may want to halve this recipe!)
1/4 cup 2% milk or cream
several cups fontina cheese, grated
1-2 cups prosciutto, sliced into thin strips
1 bunch asparagus, cut on a bias into 1 inch pieces
1-2 cups spring or white onions, chopped
1/2 cup green garlic, chopped
2-3 TB parsley, finely chopped
plenty of grated parmesan cheese

Preheat oven to 365 degrees (you can do 350 if your frittata is smaller)

Boil large pot of water. Add asparagus, remove after 2 min. Should be just turning bright green and still rather crisp. Plunge into ice bath/cold water to stop the cooking process.

Heat 2 TB oil over medium heat. Add onions and garlic, cook 5 minutes until softened. Remove. Add prosciutto to pan, cook 5-10 min or until slightly crisp. Remove.



Beat eggs together, season with salt and pepper, add parsley. Add grated cheese, asparagus, onions, garlic and prosciutto.



Grease baking pan with butter. Pour egg mixture into pan, sprinkle with more parsley and grated parmesan cheese.



Bake for 30-45 minutes, depending on size and oven temperature. Frittata should be puffed and golden; middle should be set. Test with toothpick; it should come out clean.



I served mine with avocado and a simple salad of frisee lettuce, red wine vinegar and olive oil, seasoned with salt and pepper. Yum!



~Happy Eating~

Two Parties & LOTS of Asparagus

Every few months or so we get to have dinner at my godfather's house in San Francisco. We are soooo lucky, not just because they are amazing people, but because my godfather's husband, Robert, is - among other things - an absolute genius in the kitchen (and has taught me much of what I know!) This month we were lucky enough to have two dinner parties in a row, one for Easter and the next for my godfather's birthday party the following weekend. Other than the amazing wine, friends, and food in general, the parties had two things in common: delicious pork... and friggin' HUGE asparagus. Easter was fairly low-key with about 10 people and a fabulous meal of roasted rack of pork, lasagna with gruyere cheese, and gigantic broiled asparagus, topped off by my mom's rhubarb & apple pie. Everything was delicious; in fact during dinner we couldn't seem to talk about anything but the food!

















The birthday party the following weekend had a guest list of closer to 50 people, and enough food to feed twice that number. And everything was gigantic. There was an enormous pile (I'm talking like 20 lbs) of jumbo prawns, a mountain of giant asparagus, and then the meat...the biggest pork loin I've ever seen rolled up with herbs and spices and encased completely in pork belly. It was a monster of a roast, intended for the spit on their super-sized non-gas grill. My boyfriend is the BBQ master at these events, and managed to get the thing skewered and rotating; but after the first hour the amount of grease that thing generated was just too much for it, and a nasty little grease fire followed. The roast -a bit charred on the outside but otherwise no worse for wear - had to be transferred to an oven; luckily they have two, because Beth and I were already using one to roast shrimp and asparagus in seemingly never-ending batches. Everything was divine, from the prawns - which tasted like lobster - to the intensely-juicy pork, right down to the gorgeous cakes (made by the very talented Jasmine Rae). But when all was said and done, I came away from both events with an extreme case of asparagus-fervor.













In case you didn't know, the tenderness of asparagus has nothing to do with its size and everything to do with how long ago it was plucked from the ground. In fact, the thicker the diameter the better the quality! There are probably a bunch of things you didn't know about asparagus; for instance, were you aware that there are only two vegetables - asparagus and rhubarb - that will produce for more than one season? No need to replant these guys every year, which is a good thing since it takes asparagus beds 3 years to actually start producing asparagus. During that time they develop strong, fibrous root systems; after that they can produce for up to 15 years, so I'd say it's definitely worth the wait! Asparagus spears shoot up out of the ground at a rather alarming rate; under ideal conditions they can grow 10 inches in a 24 hour period. Once they pop their heads out of the grown you have to keep a close watch on them and pick them before they go from this...



...to this...



...to this!



Yes, asparagus grows into tall, willowy, tree-like ferns with red berries, practically unrecognizable from the original spears. You wouldn't know it from most grocery stores in California, but asparagus also has a very short growing season. In most climates it's only available for a few short months in the spring. So if you buy asparagus in November and wonder why it's extremely tough and stringy, it probably had to travel a great distance to get to you; or it's simply been sitting around for a few weeks. The fresher the asparagus, the easier it is to chew.

One last tidbit before I move on to the actual cooking: asparagus comes in three different colors, green, purple and white. But the "white" asparagus is actually no different gene-wise from green asparagus. For white asparagus, mulch is piled high over the emerging spears so that they never see the light of day; without light, they cannot produce CO2, thus their whiteness. Now, on to more important matters...

You may have been taught to snap asparagus ends off; it's true that the spears have a spot where the tougher end will easily snap off. But for the big, beautiful specimens we had at both parties, it seemed extremely wasteful to snap off a third of the stalk. Instead, we shaved down the ends using a vegetable peeler. This helps the stalk to cook evenly and avoids any stringy toughness at the thick end, and at the same time lets you use the entire stalk! Keep in mind, asparagus does not need to be limp and squishy in order to be tender. Properly cooked, it should be just tender enough to bite through easily.

On Easter, we simply doused the asparagus in olive oil, sprinkled with salt, pepper and lemon zest, and broiled it for 5-10 minutes. For the birthday party, we took it a bit further. We broiled them the same way, but then topped them with slow-poached eggs, a light vinaigrette, and a fancy yummy coarse caper salt (you could mimic this using regular poached eggs and a coarse sea salt). I'd say it was fairly fabulous.

Huge Broiled Asparagus with Slow-Poached Eggs

1 bunch (or more) large asparagus (green or purple or both), thick ends shaved and the very ends cut off
slow or regular poached eggs (5 eggs per bunch of asparagus)
simple balsamic vinaigrette dressing
coarse salt
several TB's of olive oil

Turn oven to broil.

Refer to this link to slow poach eggs. Or, simply poach eggs, using the freshest eggs possible.

Brush prepped asparagus with plenty of olive oil, sprinkle with salt and pepper. Broil asparagus for 5-10 minutes, or until just fork tender and ever-so-slightly beginning to brown. Place asparagus in serving dish. Top with poached eggs, sprinkle liberally with vinaigrette, and top with coarse salt. Enjoy!

(Unfortunately I have zero photos of the finished asparagus, prawns or pork...we were just too busy at that point!)

Be Vewwy Vewwy Quiet...

I was browsing the mushroom selection at Far West Fungi a few weeks back when I saw them: morels! I've been waiting to cook them ever since I read Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle; she and her family go hunting for them on their farm in Virginia. Until now I had never cooked nor tasted them. I should have just left it at morels, to give them the focus they needed, to really showcase them for this first experience. But I got carried away when I saw the fiddlehead ferns - another item I had never tasted nor prepared - and I started envisioning a truly 'woodsy' dinner...I was thinking along the lines of game hen or quail or some other wildish fowl from my local butcher.



But alas, when I arrived at my butcher later that evening there was no wild fowl to be had. There WAS, however, an item I had never seen there before: rabbit! WHOLE rabbit - without the head, of course - set back behind the free-range chickens. I started wracking my brains for anything I knew about cooking rabbit...I'd only eaten it once, and couldn't recall what the experience was like. I'm a little squeamish about the idea of eating them, perhaps because I have owned several pet rabbits and the idea is just strange and a little wrong to me. But my butcher only sells meat and fish obtained from sustainable and humane - and mostly organic - sources, so I trusted that this rabbit had led a good life, however brief. I also have come to believe that as long as you have respect and on some level a relationship with the meat you are eating, you can feel okay...I mean, we are omnivores; the important thing is to not abuse in any way the right to eat other living beings. When I purchase organic meat from sources I can trust, I rest easier knowing that the animal was treated properly and is being appreciated fully even after death.

Plus, I mean C'MON, it seemed to fit perfectly with my "woodsy" theme, and my boyfriend - having lived in Scotland, where apparently "mangy" little rabbits run rampant like squirrels or gophers - was quite encouraging. I knew they aren't the easiest thing to cook, but I had the whole night ahead of me. I asked my butcher for some tips, and wound up opting out of having him butcher it for me. A little while later, there I stood with this bright pink skinless carcass-the-exact-size-of-my-adorable-cat in front of me on the butcher block, desperately wondering what I had got myself into since every recipe I found called for butchering the thing into pieces and A) I did not have a roasting pan big enough to cook it whole, B) I did not have enough TIME to cook it whole, and C) the knife I thought was quite sharp failed to slice through rabbit bone in ANY WAY like the one the guy in the youtube video used. And I was more than a little freaked out when my adorable cat sidled up to the butcher block, demonstrating just how uncannily the thing resembled her in size and shape, sans head and fur. But my mom and my boyfriend were looking on, so this needed to get done. I ended up cleaving the thing with an extremely dull but rather intense-looking machete-like knife. My 'audience' expressed amazement when I managed to hit the same exact spot twice in a row; it really wasn't too difficult, although I doubt my butchering skills would stand up to professional scrutiny!



Once butchered, I used a few online recipes for reference and arrived at my own strategy. It's very easy, and the results were outstanding, beyond what I could have hoped for considering my lack of skills, time and knowledge about this particular meat. I've always heard that rabbit can be tough, but apparently not THIS rabbit, when cooked in broth and white wine and cream. It tasted like supremely tender roast chicken with a hint of what I guess has to be called "gaminess," but which I prefer to call the wild.



The funny thing is, the morels that started this whole thing wound up engulfed by a huge mass of too much, too-dense, farro-flour-based pasta; after cooking the mushrooms beautifully in wine and cream and butter, they were almost nonexistent amongst all that starch. The sauce - cooked with morels and consisting of cream, white wine, and goat cheese added at the very end - was delicious, but only helped to overpower the mushrooms. I blame my lapse in judgment on that wascally wabbit. It stole the limelight, and thus my attention. Luckily the next day I turned the pasta into a rich baked dish with goat, parmesan and white cheddar cheeses, which completely saved it. Still, it was a shame to have abused such marvelous little fungi; next time I won't be so easily distracted.



Braised Rabbit

one rabbit, butchered into 6 pieces
several cups of chicken broth
1 cup dry white wine
1/4-1/2 cup cream
2-3 shallots, chopped
2-3 TB olive oil
chopped parsley
black truffle salt (totally optional)

Heat oven to 375 degrees F.

Heat oil in large saute pan over medium heat.

Season rabbit pieces well with salt and pepper. Brown in hot pan for about 5 min a side, until deeply browned. Place in large, high-sided oven-proof dish.

In same pan, saute shallots 2 min (add butter or oil if too dry). Add wine, turn heat up to medium high, scraping up brown bits. Cook for 2-3 min more.

Pour wine/shallot mixture over rabbit, add broth and cream to dish until rabbit is 3/4 of the way submerged in liquid. Top with salt & pepper and some parsley, and sprinkle on a little truffle salt if desired.

Braise in oven for 1-1.5 hours, until deeply golden brown and tender enough to shred easily off the bone. Remove from liquid, let rest 5-10 minutes before serving.

Pour off liquid into hot saute pan, turn up heat relatively high and reduce, about 5 minutes, until slightly thickened.



Serve rabbit with your choice of veggies and starch, top with a little of the sauce.




Don't be afraid to try this! It's not that difficult. Just take care that you purchase your rabbit from a responsible and humane source!


*Happy Eating*