buttery polenta with parmesan and olive oil-fried eggs

 

I haven't been cooking.  

Well, I've been boiling pasta a lot, if you count that.  It's been rice pasta because Sadie's all off wheat again.  Rice pasta is good, but just a little bit less good than wheat pasta.  I've been making dinner in a few minutes because that's how the days have been lately.  I have made no plans.  I have not defrosted the meat.  6:00 will often find me standing at the shelf in the corner of the kitchen looking at a can of sardines and a jar of tense raisins, trying to figure out what to cook for this hungry and grumpy family. It would be omelets, but Sadie's off eggs too, and she asks so sweetly that she not have to eat something else for dinner than the rest of us so usually it's pasta.  With stuff.  Olives and parmesan.  Frozen swiss chard that inspires Rosie to reject the whole dish. Honestly, the whole thing happens so fast that I barely taste a thing.

It's okay.  I'm getting my kicks out at breakfast.  

Joey and the girls tumble out of here in a wave of backpacks and lunchboxes by seven.  The cat runs outside, I gather him up, and then it's just me, the green bathrobe, and the last few sips of my coffee.  

I love me, my green bathrobe, and the last few sips of coffee.  

Dishes washed, bags of goldfish and odd seaweed snacks swept back into the pantry, and this is the time before the day begins.  Sometimes it is quiet enough that I can actually close my eyes and imagine what I want to eat for breakfast.  Often  it is a perfect croissant and I am out of luck.  In most other cases, though, I can bring it to fruition.

I just got my copy of Melissa Clark's new book from the library, and we had breakfast together this morning, me and the book.  I can tell that this one is going to pass the "if I get it out of the library 3 times, then I'll buy it" test.  The recipes?  Yes.  But the headnotes?  They wander around her life and her refrigerator until you just want to give a little nudge, and say, "what were we talking about again?" Then she says, "Oh yeah!" and she gives you her recipe for coconut fish stew with basil and lemongrass.

I really love that.

Because there are four bazillion cookbooks.  Because there is a recipe for anything you could ever want.  Because there is google, and epicurious, and a reliable Martha Stewart book on every single thing.  

But a conversation is a unique experience.  And there's only one of those.

Melissa Clark's book is filled with all sorts of lovely recipes--I'm going to cook my way through this one.  But she also shows us how she cooks; she takes the day and her mood and her leftovers and her cravings and what's in her fridge  and she makes something of the whole lovely mess.  This is a book that you could stand in front of at 6:00 searching for something to make for dinner, and while you might not have all of the ingredients for the recipe that you open up to, you will have Melissa Clark cheering you on.  She's aiding the narrative in your hungry head.  You don't have basil?  No problem.  Isn't there some parsley in the fridge--use that instead.  And if you don't really want the bacon tonight, that's fine, but add a little paprika so that you still have the smokey flavor.  She's hopeful that you'll figure out what to make for dinner, and there's nothing like a hopeful friend to get you going.

So breakfast this morning was buttery polenta with parmesan and olive oil-fried eggs.  This is as good of a dinner as it is a breakfast, and you could, as she suggests add some garlicky sauteed green for a true thrill.  I made use of what I had and what I wanted, and so for me, it was a bit of sausage on the side.  

Buttery Polenta with Parmesan and Olive-Oil Fried Eggs

from Melissa Clark, In the Kitchen with a Good Appetite

(I made this just for me, but I'll give you her recipe for four servings, just because it would be a lovely dish to share.  But quarter it at your own pleasure)

4 1/2 cups water or broth

1 1/2 cups polenta or grits

3/4 teaspoon salt

2-4 tablespoons butter

1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, plus more, to taste

1/4 cup grated parmesan

2 tablespoons olive oil

8 eggs

coarse sea salt

Bring the water or broth to a low boil.  Whisk in the polenta and continue to whisk until entirely combined.  Switch over to a wooden spoon, lower the heat, and stir frequently until thickened, about 15 minutes.  Stir in the butter, salt and pepper, remove from heat, and cover. 

Heat 1 tablespoon of olive oil in a large skillet over medium high heat.  Fry four of the eggs until the white is cooked but the yolk is runny.  Transfer to a plate and repeat with the rest of the oil and the other four eggs. 

Divide the polenta into four bowls and fold the parmesan into each of them.  Top each with two eggs, and garnish with salt and pepper.

shirred eggs with fresh herbs

I have been to Paris exactly three times.
The first was exactly as it should be, Eighteen, tormented lover who was, in turn, tormenting me. March, dismally gray, and all of our money on a disgusting hotel. We lived on bread only, with the occasional can of tuna fish for sustenance.
The bread was a revelation.
The second was eight weeks later, at the end of the same trip. This time too was exactly as it should be. Lover gone, and I, free and newly tattooed from my wanderings in Eastern Europe, had money this time, and the sun shone every day. A whole week with Sarah, who was staying with a friend who had a bathtub in her kitchen. There was wine that we bought on the corner, and several croissants a day.
As hard as I've tried, I'll tell you those croissants have not been forgotten.
My third visit to Paris was just last year, in the middle of my work trip, when I was, it seemed living someone else's life for a bit. I was only at the airport, so I wouldn't normally count it, except that I take my Paris visits where I can get them. And I flew into one airport and had to fly out of another, so technically I did drive through the city. And of course, right before I got on the plane, there was a croissant.
It was hard, with not flake in sight. That one's not sticking with me, though. It was the exception, I know for sure, and I forgive it entirely.

Despite these three limited experiences, France hangs around here in my own fabrications. Less than original, I know, but more and more, I find myself using France as an adjective rather than a proper noun, a word to emphasize the goodness of things.
I guess the word would be French.


Luckily, I have a few French people around to give it all a bit of authenticity. But either way, on good days these moments of France have their delicious ways of working their way in. When there is good cheese, and it is just at the right temperature, it is French, even if it was made right here in this part of the world. In fact, its localness might make it even more French- because it is local just like if I were in France. The verveine in my garden? French. Children in lovely unstained dresses? (as if!) French! Late dinner after the little ladies have gone to bed? Of course!


Using a country in my vocabulary without adequate experience of the place makes me feel like I've never left this country, like I've never left this town...like I'm smoking fancy cigarettes in my little kitchen just to bring in the exotic.

My passport has many stamps on it, after all. But sometimes I feel this way anyway. It is August, and I like to yearn a little.

As the moment came again to ponder my weekly summer fest offering, this month of missing led me to France. And for me, the most French place in my whole yard is the middle of my overgrown herb garden. And so I thought about herbs, and about what herbs want--about what I could eat to bring France right here. It had to be simple and effortless, perfect but able to be cooked in heels--chunky Julia heels. It had to be eggs.


Eggs and herbs have the most natural and romantic affinity for each other. Eggs hold herbs with strength and support, and for one like me who will eat fresh herbs all day long directly from the ground when given the chance, eggs are the perfect excuse. Really, I am not one for subtlety when it comes to herbs. And in the hope of really doing it, and really closing that bridge between me and my semi-imaginary France, it had to have cream and butter, and roughly ground salt and pepper. You might know it as shirred eggs, but today, we'll call it oefs en cocotte.

Oefs en cocotte are eggs baked in ramekins or gratin dishes or any little thing you might use that's, you know, French. They are sometimes over ham, but here over cream, and showered with a blizzard of herbs.
I know. When it snows it Paris, I'm sure it's snowing tarragon.
Sometimes they will be baked, but today we're putting them under the broiler because I am impatient. Impatience is not very French at all, but I'm working on it. More time sitting in that overgrown herb garden of mine should just about do it, I think.

Oefs en Cocotte (or, shirred eggs with fresh herbs)

serves one (while staring off at the distance)

3 eggs (make 'em good ones- it really counts here)
1 tablespoon heavy cream
1/2 tablespoon butter
1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh herbs- any combination of parsley, rosemary, tarragon, thyme or basil
1 tablespoon freshly grated parmesan
2 cloves garlic, finely minced
salt and freshly ground pepper

Preheat your broiler to medium high. In a small bowl, combine the herbs, parmesan, and garlic. Crack the eggs into a ramekin or tea cup. (They must be ready so that you can act fast). Put the butter and cream into a large ramekin, small gratin dish or other oven safe dish. Put the dish about six inches under the broiler until the butter and cream starts to bubble and sizzle. Watch it carefully--it will burn quickly. Remove the dish from the oven, and pour the eggs into the hot dish over the bubbling cream, taking care not to break the yolks. Sprinkle the herb mixture over the top, and add a bunch of salt and pepper. Put under the broiler and cook for 3-4 minutes, or until the whites are cooked but the yolks are visibly liquid.

And oh, can you believe it... another week of deliciousness? This week we're talking about herbs, beans and greens, and it's going to be a good one. Here's what's cooking:

White on Rice Couple use fresh mint to make homemade mint chocolate chip ice cream.
Nicole at Pinch My Salt features Green Beans with Balsamic Browned Butter.
Margaret at A Way to Garden stores a year of herb and makes one-pot Farinata a polenta dish with greens.
Food Network UK is on the edge with herbs and greens.
Caroline at the Wright Recipes is cooking up Wax and Butter Bean Herbed Salad.
Jennifer and Mark at Gilded Fork have a virtual garden of recipes
The Best Bean Salads and a French Take on Greens, Beans and Herbs from the Cooking Channel
Top 6 Herbs from Healthy Eats
Leftover Herb Solution (Pesto!) from Allison at Food2
Recipes for The "Other" Summer Greens from the FN Dish
Kelly at Just a Taste -Makes Fresh Herb Ricotta
Caron at San Diego Foodstuff talks about Kale and Feta Empanadas and roasted Romano beans.


And you? What are you bringing to the pot luck this week?