I posted a version of these photographs over on Instagram (look me up!) with the caption "trying to get my mojo back."

And it's true—while I could tell tall tales of action-packed holidays and busy work schedules and many too many meals out, the simple fact is that some time in November my wonderful sister and brother-in-law gave me a session with a house cleaner for my birthday, which led me to put my photo lights in the closet and ... well, that's pretty much all it takes to leave me thoroughly distracted.

So how have I fed myself the past couple of months? Mostly with spoonfuls of cottage cheese straight from the container for breakfast, brick-sized turkey sandwiches grabbed out of deli cases for lunch, and convenience foods for dinner. I dabbled in the kitchen here and there, but my efforts felt for the most part clumsy and disappointing and unsatisfying. 

And you know what? It started to really get me down. Granted, I know about the extent to which our heads are in the game when it comes to food more than most, but I realized I was feeling listless and off track. Putting mystery meat, other assorted blech, and much of the world's supply of potatoes into my body day after day was affecting my waistline and my psyche.

I knew that if I wanted to regain my footing, I was going to need an absolute bolt out of the blue.

And here she be:


Beautiful. Fresh. Colorful. "Taste the rainbow" doesn't have to mean Skittles, friends. These are all healthy, unadulterated ingredients, but they're also delicious and indulgent.

For this little jump start, I went to the fancy market and bought all organic ingredients. That's truly not necessary—I find I can't afford to eat that way all the time, in funds or in time—but it went a long way toward making this meal feel like a treat I was giving myself. In all, I spent about $35 on everything you see here (with potatoes and tomatoes and eggs and olives and onion and greens left over), and got four good-size portions out of the deal. That's better bang for your buck than I generally get from eating out.

In the end, this is a salad. Some people just can't get all that excited about a salad, and I totally understand that. Sometimes I am some people, too. But the beauty of this salad is that there are so many components that each bite can taste a little bit different than the last, which makes your taste buds ever so happy. Especially if you save the olives for last.

There are a few tips to making this work as a quick meal, as opposed to feeling like you're making seven different dishes:

1. Cook the potatoes first. Blanch the green beans during the last few minutes of the potato cooking time.

2. Slice the onion, halve the tomatoes, trim the beans, and make the dressing while the potatoes cook. Also set your eggs out on the counter to come to room temperature.

3. Once the green beans and potatoes come out of the boiling water, add the eggs—fewer pots to wash!

4. Grill the tuna first, and slice the cooked potatoes in half; then add the potatoes, cut-side down, to the grill to pick up a little of that charred flavor (OK and maybe also so they'll look pretty.)

5. Set aside some dressing, and toss the warm potatoes in it the minute they come off the grill. FYI this does nothing to make the process easier or more efficient, it's just delicious.

6. Remember to have some ice on hand if at all possible for shocking the eggs. This makes the water cold-cold, so that egg whites gasp in horror and shrink from the shells, which makes peeling ever so much easier. I did not have ice, and ... well, you'll see there are three eggs here instead of four. (RIP fourth egg.)

Enjoy!


Tuna Salad Niçoise

8 fingerling potatoes
10 ounces haricots vert or fresh green beans
½ 10-ounce package mixed baby lettuces
8 ounces grape tomatoes, halved
¼ large red onion, thinly sliced
16 pitted kalamata or niçoise olives
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
4 tablespoons red wine vinegar
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, divided
2 garlic cloves, minced and divided
1 (8-ounce) tuna steak
Kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
4 large eggs, at room temperature

1. Cook potatoes in boiling water to cover 15 minutes or until just tender. Add haricots vert to boiling water during last 3 minutes of cooking time. Remove haricots vert and potatoes from boiling water with tongs; place haricots vert in a bowl of ice water to stop the cooking process. Slice potatoes in half lengthwise. Set aside.

2. Whisk together mustard, vinegar, 2 tablespoons oil, and 1 garlic clove in a medium bowl. Set aside.

3. Season tuna on both sides with salt and pepper. Heat grill pan over medium-high heat, and brush lightly with olive oil. Cook tuna 3 minutes on one side; turn, and cook 1 to 2 minutes (for rare) or until desired degree of doneness. Set aside.

4. Place potatoes, cut sides down, on grill pan; cook 3 to 5 minutes or until potatoes are well marked. Remove to a bowl, and toss with about 2 tablespoons reserved dressing. Set aside.

5. Add eggs to boiling water; cook exactly 6 minutes, and remove to a bowl of ice water.

6. Heat remaining 1 garlic clove in remaining 1 tablespoon oil in a small skillet over medium heat about 1 minute or until fragrant. Add haricots vert, and toss until lightly heated through. Sprinkle with salt to taste. Cut tuna into thin slices. Carefully peel eggs, and gently cut in half crosswise.

7. Line a platter with baby lettuces; top with tomatoes, onion, olives, haricots vert, tuna, eggs, and potatoes. Serve with remaining dressing. Makes 4 servings.

 

It is not a well-kept secret that I can't bake.

For some reason, from the start of every attempt, my confidence wavers, panic sets in, and my brain shifts firmly into the off position. In my mild defense, every time I feel I've followed the directions to the letter, somehow things do not turn out as they should.

Fortunately in my case, this isn't a devastating handicap—baked goods are not generally as high on my list as, say, cheese. Or pasta.

Though to be fair, I am not sure I could make either of those things, either.

Flour flummoxes me. I think I'm always using too much or too little, and I cannot measure it without simultaneously getting it all over my floor, countertop, and person.

I don't know exactly what is meant by "mix just until combined," but it's a veritable guarantee that if I pour any sort of batter into any sort of pan, there's going to be a glump of dry ingredients at the bottom of the bowl.

My oven only has two speeds: undercooked and probably dangerous in the middle, or dry and dense enough to make a nice homebuilding material.

But by far my greatest nemesis is yeast. What do you mean, "put in a warm place (free from drafts)"? What do you mean, "add warm water"? WHAT IS WARM?

Luckily I am a fact-checker by trade, and I am not one to let a stinky little microorganism get the best of me. So I got me to the Google, and learned a few things.

A) Warm water = somewhere between 105 and 110 degrees. Yes, I used a thermometer to measure it; I'm not a wizard.

B) A warm place = well, frankly, a lot of things. Based on the Internets, people have had to imagine all sorts of locations for proofing breads and pastries, everything from the top of the refrigerator to the inside of the clothes dryer. I used two of the simplest suggestions I could find (my dryer is outside in an uninsulated room, so that wasn't going to work): Place a cup of water inside the microwave, and heat until boiling—this worked when the dough was in the mixing bowl—and place a pan of water in the lower half of the oven, then preheat the oven to 200 for five minutes—this worked while the dough proofed on the sheet pan.

And finally, if there's one thing I know about having two left feet in the kitchen, it's that it's best to start simple. I decided to try Anne Burrell's focaccia recipe, because I had the good fortune to have watched her prepare it on her show. (She made it look so easy!)

Things I learned: Baking is a patient person's game. (I believe we just discovered the root of my failures.) There's a lot of hanging around and waiting in bread-making, while you let the yeast do its job. Baking is a lot about going by feel. That takes practice, which I still need—I'm not sure if my dough was too tacky or too dry, but I didn't exactly get the fluffy center I hoped for.

HOWEVER, the dough rose successfully twice (!) and the finished product was super delicious, even if it had a slightly chewier texture and slimmer profile than I was aiming for.


It made for a delicious BFD (breakfast for dinner, potty mouth)—eggs and soldiers, served up very simply with a chai latte, six-minute eggs (get that recipe here), and seconds-before-burning bacon. Which is the only way to make bacon.

The next day, my focaccia experiment made for a fabulous three cheese/bacon panino, and I was doubly sold on the miracle of making your bread yourself.

Baking! I done it! And I think I'm going to do it again. You should, too!

Enjoy!


Focaccia
adapted from a recipe by Anne Burrell
1¾ cups warm water (between 105 and 110 degrees)
1 package active dry yeast
1 tablespoon sugar
5 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon kosher salt
1 cup extra virgin olive oil, divided
Coarse sea salt

1. Combine first 3 ingredients in a small bowl. Place bowl in a warm place 15 minutes or until yeast bubbles and is aromatic.

2. Combine flour, kosher salt, ½ cup olive oil, and yeast mixture in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with a dough hook at low speed until dough comes together. Increase mixer speed to medium, and beat 5 to 6 minutes or until dough is smooth and soft. (Sprinkle with flour if dough is overly sticky.)

3. Transfer dough to a lightly floured surface, and knead by hand 1 or 2 times. (Sprinkle with flour if dough is overly sticky.) Coat mixer bowl lightly with olive oil, and return dough to bowl. Cover with plastic wrap and place in a warm place at least 1 hour or until dough doubles in size.

4. Coat baking sheet with remaining ½ cup olive oil. Transfer dough to prepared baking sheet, pressing out to fill pan. Turn dough over, and continue to stretch dough to fit baking sheet, spreading with your fingers to make holes all the way through dough. Place baking sheet in a warm place at least 1 hour or until dough doubles in size.

5. Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Sprinkle dough liberally with coarse sea salt, and drizzle lightly with olive oil. Bake 25 to 30 minutes or until golden brown. Let cool before serving. Makes 10 to 12 servings.

 

A couple of weeks ago I cleaned out the condiments in my refrigerator door. Well that's not entirely true; I weeded out just the salad dressings because I am only one woman and I certainly do not have the time to wade through every sticky bottle of mustard, curry paste, fish sauce, mayonnaise, soy sauce, and heaven only knows what else in a single evening.

I should note that of the eight bottles of salad dressing in my refrigerator, only one passed the expiration date test. One that ended up in the bin had not even been opened.

Shame. I feel shame.

The good news is that now I can just indiscriminately sweep the whole lot into the garbage, because come a-summertime, this raw tomato sauce is the only condiment I need.

All of the ingredients go into the food processor, which means that it takes 4 minutes to make. I've been eating it on EVERYTHING this week. Breakfast is crostini cut from a whole-grain baguette topped with melty mozzarella and scrambled eggs. Know what tastes great slathered all over that? This sauce.


Noodles sprinkled with fresh basil and topped with a beautiful, sunny 6-minute egg. Know what tastes great with that? This sauce.

The last time I made this sauce it was as an accompaniment to meatloaf, but none of the sauce actually made it to the table, because my family couldn't keep their focaccia-dipping fingers out of it. 

A long slab of crusty bread, a hunk of Parmesan, and this sauce will make you the most popular person at your next potluck.


It's very close to what Giada de Laurentiis taught me is "checca sauce," although naturally I had to make some adjustments for my own taste and the quantities available in my market.

Garlic is a heavy-hitter here, so I'd start with 1 or 2 cloves and then taste to see if it's to your liking. (Personally I like my raw garlic levels somewhere around vampire-killing potency, but that's not for everyone.) Throw in a little dried crushed red pepper if you want things spicy, but even I of the five-alarm taste buds didn't need it here.

Please do try a 6-minute egg when you can. It's the perfect marriage of sunny-side up and hardboiled, although my hardboiled eggs don't turn out this beautifully. (Thank you, Rachael Ray.) The whites are totally cooked, but the yolk stays velvety and runny.

I feel the need to point out that when you are a single lady with a dozen eggs, you are going to find yourself putting eggs on top of a lot of foodstuffs. (You are also going to find yourself opening your spaghetti canister to find that it only has soba noodles in it, but that's another story for another day.) I promise this won't become the Egg on Top Chronicles forever.

Use all those beautiful, perfect, late-summer tomatoes while you can!

Enjoy!


Pasta with Fresh Tomato Sauce and 6-Minute Egg

2 ounces spaghetti or other long pasta
1 egg, at room temperature
Kosher salt, to taste
½ cup Fresh Tomato Sauce (recipe below)
Garnish: fresh basil

1. Cook pasta according to package directions; drain and set aside.

2. Fill a large bowl two-thirds full with ice, and place in the freezer. Bring a medium saucepan half filled with water to a rolling boil over high heat; carefully lower egg into boiling water. Cook egg 6 minutes. With 1 minute remaining in egg cook time, remove bowl of ice from freezer and fill bowl with water. Transfer egg to ice bath with a slotted spoon, let cool, and carefully peel.

3. Transfer hot cooked noodles to a plate, and sprinkle with kosher salt and black pepper to taste. Top with Checca Sauce and egg. Sprinkle egg with additional kosher salt. Garnish, if desired. Makes 1 serving.

Fresh Tomato Sauce

1 pound tomatoes, coarsely chopped
1 bunch green onion (white and pale green parts only), coarsely chopped
2 to 4 garlic cloves, chopped
10 fresh basil leaves
3 tablespoons olive oil
Kosher salt, to taste

Black pepper, to taste

Place first 5 ingredients in a food processor; pulse until coarsely chopped. Stir in kosher salt and black pepper to taste. Makes 2 cups.

 

This is what I've been eating for breakfast this week, which is mostly notable because I'm actually willing to wake up earlier in the morning to prepare it.

Anyone who knows me knows it takes a forklift to get me out of bed on an average weekday morning, because I like to stay up late watching four (two-hour) episodes in a row of MasterChef while yelling at the TV about how much I am not enjoying watching MasterChef this season.

(It's a misnomer anyway, right? The premise is that these are home cooks? I don't think making very bad eclairs while Joe Bastianich raises his eyebrow at you really promotes you to the level of "master." Anyone competing on Top Chef Masters might agree with me.)

But! For this breakfast I am willing to make the sacrifice. The dog, however, stays firmly tucked into the covers until I crowbar his tiny butt out of bed, because don't nobody want to be outside, in August, in Alabama. It's slightly difficult to tell in the picture below, but those eggs are sweating like a whore in church. And I had to do quite a bit of work to these pictures to eliminate the curtain of fog that settled contentedly onto my camera lens.

A nice, hearty bread works best here, for the sopping up of lovely yolkiness. Cautionary tale, though: You would be wise to invest in full-fat Cheddar. I thought reduced-fat would make me somehow virtuous, but it came out slightly rubbery and flavorless. Do as I say, not as I do.

One thing I've learned along the way is that after the first day with your avocado, when you've put the remainder in the fridge, it's good to place the avocado on the bread and layer the cheese over it, so that the short toast in the oven takes the chill off. To season the avocado I use garlic salt with flecks of dried parsley in it for a little extra oomph, but regular s&p will do just fine—you don't all have to be as fancee as we are here on the Woodside.

I serve this up with a side of berries (because my mother tells me they'll keep me from dying) and curl into the couch in my robe while my hair dries, checking the weather forecast (dog in yard or in house?) and listening to Morning Edition.

So there you have it! Now you know how to make a fast and delicious breakfast sandwich, and way too many details about my mornings.

Enjoy! 


TEA (Tomato, Egg, and Avocado) Breakfast Sandwiches

4 slices whole wheat bread
4 slices Cheddar cheese
1 avocado, sliced
Garlic salt
1 tomato, sliced
Cooking spray
4 eggs

1. Preheat oven to 500 degrees. Place bread slices in a toaster oven and toast just until golden brown. Place toasted bread on a baking sheet, and top with cheese slices. Bake just until cheese melts.

2. Top cheese with avocado slices. Sprinkle with garlic salt, and top with tomato slices.

3. Cook eggs in a skillet coated with cooking spray until whites are set and yolk is still runny. Top tomato slices with eggs. Makes 4 servings.

 

Have you ever had dinner with a food blogger?

Ain't that just a sunny vision?!

I'm jumping forward a little bit and posting this ahead of some others I have in the wings because I just couldn't resist—look at that sunny yellow nugget! How can you resist?

OK, universe, I hear ya! It is not asparagus season any longer.

This, my friends, is a truly "kitchen sink" sort of breakfast. Clearly I am of the opinion that when one sleeps in past the point of appropriateness even for your average college student, one deserves a portion size equal to breakfast and lunch jammed together.

Me: I can't believe it took me until I was *ahem* years old before I started to understand what it means to crave something.
Little Sister: It sure does make eating more satisfying.

It's becoming something of a reigning philosophy 'round the Woodside that when in doubt, meat and potatoes.

SHH! I was never here.

But I really, really, really hope to be back soon.



Cheddar Grits with Black Beans, Lentils, Sausage, and a Poached Egg
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium onion, diced
1 large jalapeño chile, diced
Kosher salt, to taste
Freshly ground black pepper, to taste
¼ teaspoon dried crushed red pepper
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 packet taco seasoning mix
3 cups low-sodium beef broth
1 (14.5-ounce) can crushed tomatoes
2 (15-ounce) cans black beans, drained and rinsed
1 cup dried brown lentils, rinsed
10 ounces hot smoked sausage, cut into bite-size pieces
Instant grits
6 to 8 ounces freshly grated Cheddar cheese
White wine vinegar
4 large eggs
Garnish: Chopped green onion

1. Heat olive oil over medium-high heat in a stockpot; add onion, jalapeño, and red pepper. Season with salt and pepper, and sauté 5 minutes or until onions become translucent. Stir in garlic and taco seasoning mix, and cook 2 more minutes.

2. Add beef broth, tomatoes, beans, and lentils; bring to a boil. Cover, reduce heat, and simmer 1 hour or until lentils are tender.

3. Sauté sausage in a dry pan until browned. Stir into cooked lentils. Cover pot, and keep warm over low heat.

4. Prepare 4 servings instant grits according to package directions. Stir in cheese. Cover pot, and keep warm over low heat.

5. In a small saucepan, bring water to a gentle boil. Add a splash of vinegar. Crack 1 egg into a small bowl. Stir boiling water vigorously with a spoon to create a small well in the center, and carefully add egg to center of pan. Cook 1 to 2 minutes or until whites are set but yolks are still very runny. Remove from pot with a slotted spoon. Repeat with remaining 3 eggs.

6. Divide grits among 4 serving bowls; top with lentil-sausage mixture and poached eggs. (There will be lots of lentils left over.) Garnish, if desired. Makes 4 servings.

To my mind, there aren't many things that fill, comfort, and satisfy quite like a sandwich. There's the ohskrewit-ness of eating with your hands, the infinite possibilities for ingredients, and the textural coup that's almost impossible to achieve with anything else.

The genius is in the simplicity of the formula: 2 pieces [carbohydrate of choice] plus whatever you want. When I'm planning to feed any group of unknowns—a crowd, strangers, anyone with dietary constraints, picky picky picky people—I almost always default to the sandwich.

There should be some attention paid to balance, but it's not a difficult trick to master; you want something crisp, something crunchy, something hearty, and something creamy, but those can be in any combination you desire:

romaine lettuce + tomato + Monterey Jack + avocado
iceberg + bacon + smoked turkey + fried egg
arugula + whole-grain mustard + roast beef + horseradish mayonnaise
cucumber + red onion + smoked salmon + cream cheese

See? Easy! (Note: This is the only kind of math I'm comfortable with.)

I like a certain rawness to my sandwiches—I'm less attached to toasted bread and melty cheese, although of course there is absolutely nothing wrong with either. There is just something devil-may-care about eating with your hands, biting into something that's a perfect package of all your favorite things.

This one, actually, isn't my favorite. It comes courtesy of Giada de Laurentiis, and I love it because of its unexpected inclusion of egg crepes. (Stay with me.) She serves these on focaccia, and I think they would have been vastly improved by it if my grocer only carried it. I settled for a seeded Italian bread; the flavor was nice, but it was too densely chewy and tough. Also, she calls them "Mini Italian Club Sandwiches"—she's marketing them as appetizers—but they lack a few of the things I love best about club sandwiches, namely lettuce and tomato. I used reduced-fat pesto here, but it was doomed from the start: Pesto has a delicate flavor that is probably nice with the Giada's choice of bread, and the reduced-fatness would likely have passed by unnoticed, but in this case it never had a chance. The taste was sucker-punched by the bread, and in the end it wound up playing an almost invisible role.

The egg crepes are easy, and worth it. It helps to have a little extra egg at the ready so that you can try one or two to determine how your stovetop idiosyncrasies are going to affect the outcome. Don't let them brown; soft and creamy is the way to go. They add a lovely, unexpected layer of texture that makes even an addict like me forget there's no mayonnaise.

They're also beautifully elegant and will make people eyeball you as though you are a kitchen genius, so ... there's that.

Too many substitutions and alterations sort of conspired to make this version a little less-than, but I highly recommend trying the recipe as written. (I've done that before, and they turned out deliciously.)

Or just slap everything in your pantry and refrigerator between two pieces of bread for instant happiness.



Giada's Italian Club Sandwiches
10 bacon strips
3 large eggs
2 tablespoons heavy cream
¼ teaspoon salt
Pinch of freshly ground black pepper
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
2 (8-ounce) round loaves focaccia bread (7-inch diameter)
1 cup prepared pesto
½ pound thinly sliced turkey
4 ounces thinly sliced provolone cheese

1. Preheat oven to 425. Place bacon on a foil-lined sheet pan, and bake until browned and crispy. Set aside.

2. Whisk together eggs, cream, salt, and pepper until well blended. Heat a 6-inch nonstick skillet over medium-low heat. Brush the skillet with some butter. Pour enough egg mixture into the pan to just coat the bottom of the pan, swirling to distribute evenly. Cover and cook 2 minutes or until egg crepe is just set. Invert a plate over the skillet and turn the skillet over, allowing the egg crepe to drop onto the plate. Repeat to make 4 crepes total, brushing the skillet with melted butter as needed between crepes.

3. Cut the focaccia in half horizontally, and place directly on oven rack in center of oven until lightly toasted. Spread pesto over the toasted sides of each halved focaccia. Divide the egg crepes, turkey, provolone, and bacon equally among two pieces of focaccia; top with remaining two pieces of bread. Cut each sandwich into bite-size pieces. Makes 6 servings.

I'm finding, as I attempt to make meals that clean out the refrigerator and/or use ingredients I have on hand that are heading toward their death, that I'm extraordinarily inefficient at it. Two days ago, for example, when I was all, "I'm using up the collard greens!" I a) had to discard two separate browning half heads of iceberg and four (!) almost-finished bags of what used to be shredded lettuce but had become an unrecognizable science experiment, and b) I bought more ingredients to supplement the greens in the first place.

Math is hard.

Last night I had similarly noble intentions, and managed to find a perfectly good use for ... three eggs. Oops.

In my defense, I wanted to make something sort of one-pot and easy, something that would fill my belly but not sap my brain. My brain needed a break yesterday, time to reflect and go for a freezing run and laugh and curl up with the dog and hug other people's babies.

(Seriously, people, it's February in the Deep South and it's been gray for days. It's currently sleeting, and every third e-mail in my inbox is a screeching reminder from TurboTax. I'm going to need to be borrowing your babies.)

I just pulled this recipe out of the air, in an attempt to accomplish the aforementioned not-thinking. I'd use Napa cabbage if you can get it. (I couldn't.) My dear friend sriracha features prominently here; I'm forever indebted to JFro for making our introduction. If runny yolks are not your friend, you could easily stir fry eggs into the rice as it finishes cooking, but all that luscious richness helps emulsify these flavors into something they aren't on their own. I did not have just one serving.

And thanks to my inimitable coworker, M, who gifted me with the sake that made this meal, and my evening, just that much warmer. (She will wince at the presence of butter in the rice-making equation, but I've found it indispensible—it makes it impossible for those who tend to forget the rice is even cooking to end up with it glued to the bottom of the pan. Forgive me, father, for I have lazied.)



Pork-and-Cabbage Rice Bowl with Fried Egg
¼ cup soy sauce
2 tablespoons rice vinegar
1 tablespoon sesame oil
1 tablespoon fish sauce
3 garlic cloves, minced
1 (2-inch) piece ginger, peeled and minced
Sriracha, to taste
2 tablespoons butter
1 teaspoon salt
2 cups basmati rice
1 pound ground pork
½ head green or Napa cabbage, shredded
3 to 4 green onions, chopped
2 tablespoons cornstarch
4 eggs
Garnishes: sriracha, green onions

1. Whisk together first 7 ingredients in a small bowl; set aside.

2. Bring butter, salt, and 4 cups water to a boil over high heat. Stir in rice; cover, reduce heat to low, and cook 20 minutes.

3. Meanwhile, add pork to a large, dry skillet over medium-high heat; sauté until browned. Stir in cabbage, and cook 2 to 3 minutes or until lightly wilted. Stir in reserved soy sauce mixture and green onions.

4. Whisk together cornstarch and 2 tablespoons water in a small bowl. Add to skillet with pork, cabbage, and sauce, and stir to combine. Reduce heat to low, and let simmer until sauce thickens slightly.

5. In a small skillet, fry eggs until whites are cooked but yolks are still runny. Spoon rice and pork mixture into individual serving bowls; top each with a fried egg. Garnish, if desired. Makes 4 servings.

And guess what? This happened to me yesterday.



I'm OBSESSED with foodgawker, so to me this is the equivalent of being asked to sit at the cool kids' table. I promise to well and truly embarrass myself.

I. am. so. funny. SO funny, in fact, that I stole that joke from someone else. Rather unabashedly, in fact. Miso shameless. Miso ridiculous. Miso hilarious. If mido say so miself.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

It's Friday. You didn't expect sanity here, did you?

Today's bout of absurdity is sponsored, though, brought to you by my lovely coworker M, who trekked to the furthest reaches of our fair suburbs to bring me white miso. I needed 4 tablespoons; I now have 2 pounds. You're probably going to see it show up here a lot as I attempt to work my way through the remainder.

Aw, shucks.

I adapted this from a recipe I found at Momofuku for 2, which refers to chicken ramen as "my kind of trashy comfort food."

A note to my legions: Trashy is swiftly becoming a theme around the Woodside.

It's ultimately a breeze to put together, but there are elements that need individual attention, so it requires more focus than I'm generally known to assign a task (read: any). Here they are in finer detail:



What you can't see, at the bottom of the bowl, are the ramen noodles. I used pre-packaged dry ramen, the kind that comes molded into a brick with the foil packet of poison (also known as the "seasoning mix," responsible for ramen's bad reputation, which contains—wait for it—1,200 mg of sodium). That went into the garbage. Spooned on top are shreds of rotisserie chicken, quite tasty but looking awfully pallid here, blanched spinach, buttered corn, a (too-)soft-boiled egg, thin slices of raw onion, and pretty rolls of green onion—because they make everything look lovelier, and because there were some in the refrigerator.

The miso had an earthy smell I didn't expect; one of the listed ingredients is, sort of ominously, "alcohol," and the best way to describe it is that it made my chicken broth smell a bit like beer. The original recipe suggested tasting the broth for seasoning and adjusting accordingly because not all miso is created equally, apparently. Not having a firm idea of what my miso broth was supposed to taste like, I mostly blundered along blindly. I was instructed to soft-boil the eggs for 6 minutes, but as you can see that wasn't really long enough. I love a silken, runny yolk, which in this case partnered up with the buttered corn for some terrific richness, but these were definitely collapsed centers as opposed to wobbly ones.

(Note: I did as directed and ran the eggs under cold water for a few minutes directly after boiling, and they did peel more dreamily than any other boiled egg I've ever attempted. It must be said, though, that not-quite-firmly-boiled eggs are a delicate business.)

This recipe didn't really have a failure potential, because it combines so many of my favorite things—soft eggs, chicken, noodles, and deep, can't-quite-put-your-finger-on-it flavor—but the real surprise for me was the effect of the raw onions. There are people in my life who will run girl-screaming from the room if they catch sight of a raw onion, but these added necessary crunch, that beloved bite, and a really unexpected sweetness.

Still, as I've wandered this culinary labyrinth lately, like the unmotivated mouse I am, I do find that I'm accidentally learning a thing or two. And as I prepared to make this meal, there was something nagging me in the back of my brain: The flavors seemed a little too mild for me. Delicious, yes, and variously sweet, salty, rich, and bright, but something fell flat in my first virtual taste. And my first real taste confirmed it. This recipe really doesn't need any improvement, and it would be just right for many people, but for me, it needed a squeeze of sriracha to tie it all together. A spritz of lime juice might do it, too, if you don't like spicy foods, but there was just a tiny voice in the expanses of my tangled brain that whispered, "acid."

At least I think that's what it meant.

This really is comfort food at its best, which is trashy, and I know I'll think of it the next time I'm sick, or cold, or tired, or just craving a big bowl of my favorite things.



Chicken Miso Ramen

8 cups fat-free, low-sodium chicken broth
4 tablespoons shiro miso (white miso)
2 (3-ounce) packages ramen noodles (any flavor), seasoning packets discarded
4 eggs
2 cups frozen whole-kernel corn
Kosher salt
4 cups spinach leaves
2 tablespoons butter
3 cups shredded rotisserie chicken
1 small white onion, thinly sliced
2 green onions, chopped
Sriracha (optional)

1. Place broth in a stockpot or Dutch oven over medium heat; stir in miso until thoroughly mixed and heated through. Reduce heat to low, stirring occasionally.

2. In a medium saucepan, cook noodles according to package directions. Drain, and divide among 4 serving bowls. Add water to pot, and bring to a boil. Place eggs into boiling water; cook 6 to 8 minutes, according to preference. Drain, and run under cold water until cool; peel and slice in half.

3. Sauté corn in butter in a small skillet, stirring until kernels are heated through.

4. Meanwhile, add water and kosher salt to medium saucepan, and bring to a boil. Cook spinach just until wilted and bright green; drain.

5. Arrange chicken, sliced onion, spinach, and corn over noodles in serving bowls. Top each serving with miso broth, and then eggs and green onions. Stir in sriracha, if desired. Serves 4.