egg Tag

THE BEST, YET, ONE-SKILLET CREAMY EGG

 

THE RESULT WAS AN ONE SKILLET, BLINK OF AN EYE, ELEGANT AND REMARKABLE QUILT OF EGG MAGIC

Ever since I published a self-proclaimed genius recipe for my magic 15-seconds creamy scrambled eggs, I didn’t think a better one – and by “better” I mean it in the context where you need a speedy and easy recipe for morning eggs – could ever come across my path, which proves, again, that I know nothing.

A glimpse in one of the episodes in Anthony Bourdain’s Return To Catalunyain a fairytale land far far away they call Barcelona, there under the sparkling dim lights in a snuggly tapas bar, I saw it.  Quiet and flashing by, one can assume that among the dazzles of celebrity TV personalities and seemly endless flow of Spanish culinary bewitchment, this egg dish wasn’t even the heroine of the night.  But I saw it, I noticed, a hot cast-iron skillet cuddling what seemed to be the most beautiful, golden blanket of creamy eggs.  We locked eyes.  None of us said a word.  But just from that split second of eye contact, me and it, almost telepathically, we understood something deep about one another.

From its wet and almost undone surface, its slightly firmer and rippling bottom, and fact that it was served being cradled inside a warm cast-iron skillet, it whispered to me how it was made, like watching a movie unrolling, but only in my mind, a glowing mirage of prophecy.  I saw one hot skillet, butter in a hypnotizing swirl, then almost abruptly, the flame wisp away only to welcome the stream of eggs into its warm embrace.  Barely guided was the slow and perfect congelation, and the restrain to apply any unnecessary heat was absolute, resulting in an one-skillet, blink of an eye, elegant and remarkable quilt of egg magic.  At that point I’ve never met it, tasted it, but I immediately understood its calling, its noble mission of life – to ensure that no one on this earth bestowed with the gift that is eggs, will ever, ever taste a bad one again.

And what it understood about me?  Well, you’re reading it aren’t you.

 
ONE-SKILLET CREAMY EGG

Serving Size: one

Ingredients

  • 2 large eggs
  • 1/4 tsp sea salt
  • 2 tsp unsalted butter

Instructions

  1. Before you start with the eggs, you can prepare the toppings if any. I fry a clove of thinly sliced garlic in 1 tbsp of extra virgin olive oil, then I add 1 tbsp finely chopped herbs (basil and mint) and a pinch of ground white pepper and chili flakes, then added toasted pine nuts. But the topping can be as simple as crumbled feta with olive oil, or shaved pecorino cheese, or really, nothing would be fine as well.
  2. A note on the skillet. The size of the skillet is important. You want the eggs to spread across the diameter in a fairly thin layer. A 9" is perfect for 2 large eggs. 10"~11" for 3 eggs. 12"~13" for 4 eggs.
  3. Beat eggs and sea salt until slightly frothy (I find that thoroughly beaten eggs results in a creamier texture), set aside. Place a 9" cast-iron skillet, or any heavy NON-STICK skillet over medium-high heat. Preheat 1:30 min for cast-iron skillet, or 2 min for NON-STICK skillet. The preheat time may vary based on the skillet you use, so the first time may be a test-run for you to get a feel of it. Basically we want to have enough heat to accomplish the following result, no more no less.
  4. Add 2 tsp unsalted butter and swirl the skillet without lifting the skillet away from the heat, until the butter has fully melted. Now turn off the heat, and add the beaten eggs. Use a spatula to gently push the edges of curdled egg towards the center, then tilt the skillet to let the remaining runny egg fill the empty space. Do this until you don't have much runny eggs left. The surface of the eggs should look UNDONE at this point. DO NOT ATTEMPT to apply more heat to cook the egg. The residual heat will warm through the surface as it sits and makes it perfectly soft.
  5. Serve immediately with whatever toppings you fancy. Or really, nothing is perfect, too.
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HOLY CRAPPED HOLLANDAISE

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I’m sure it happens to everybody.  I know, self-assuringly, that I’m not alone on this…  I’m sure that once in a while, we all come across a recipe, a “trick” really, that gets us so excited we forget to reasonably doubt and then it fails on such an epic proportion that we quiver at the sight of the kitchen doorway for a week.  Say it is so.

Well… even so, two days ago, when my cold lingered on and my eyes were so dry from the medication that they were about to crack open, it just wasn’t… really wasn’t the best time for this to happen.

And yet it so did.  Three times it did.

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STREAMLINING PASTA

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I wholeheartedly thank everyone for their warm regards for Bado.  She’d be ecstatic if she knew how much attention she could single handedly bring in.  I’ve always knew that she beats buttered biscuits.

…I’m thinking, grief in its pure form is quite harmless, to be handled as a cold that wants nothing more than to run its natural course.  Crying in the shower… sniffing her toys, whatever, sooner or later it always does.  But unfortunately it’s now mixed with a toxic dose of regrets, guilt and self-blame and becomes a gust of acid rain, dampening every opening of a smile and making the lightest garment feel heavy… and sploosh!, melts me to the ground with it without warning.  The cold fact that we’ve failed our baby girl, and the meaninglessness of how all our hearts and efforts meant the opposite, really…, really.  Hurts.

I’m sure it all makes no sense what I’m saying…  To shut my brain up and spare us both, I started making some pasta that night.

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Rise baby Rise!

Cuz I don’t brown up nice in the oven.  NO!  I meant I can’t bake!  I’m paralyzed in the field of baking because I’m innately handicapped in following instructions.  But I, too am a mere mortal who’s powerless against the calling of fresh-out-of-the-oven pastries.  And I have a thing for biscuits.

For one, it is one of the few pastries that doesn’t need egg (ok, I LOVE eggs but can’t have them.  That’s a Ginormica sob story for another time).  And plus, they’re just endlessly versatile.  They are the personal escorts,  the Emporors Club of the pastry world.  They will play any role you want them to play for the day, breakfast, lunch, dinner or dessert!  Fantastic!  If one could just be a gentleman, invest in a little courtship beforehand to get to know the biscuits well, to help her reach you-know-what.   What?

It’s the RISE, baby!!!

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