Passover Sponge Cake with Apples

With this post, I present to you the fifth-to-last cake in the cake chapter. I'm closing in on it!

Passover, as you may or may not know, poses a certain challenge to cooks since there are strict dietary rules around, well, everything. But especially baked goods since leavening is not allowed, nor are certain grains. So what's an intrepid baker to do?

Fortunately all that really needs to be done is to find a few good recipes and hit your local market for items you might have otherwise overlooked, like matzo cake meal and potato starch. There are many recipes in The Gourmet Cookbook that are appropriate for Jewish holidays, and Passover Sponge Cake with Apples is one of them.

The loft in this cake is provided by egg whites beaten to stiff peaks and folded into a base of yolks, sugar, lemon juice, matzo-meal and potato starch. You get a layered effect by alternating the cake batter with apple slices and cinnamon sugar.

This is a very pleasant cake but a little on the dry side so it's improved greatly by something to make it juicier, like whipped cream, ice cream or macerated fruit. Are those things kosher for Passover? I'm not exactly sure, but since I'm not Jewish I won't worry about it too much.

But since we're on the subject, I have a few things to report from friends who are--my neighbor Don who scoffed at this recipe and said that nothing can beat his flourless chocolate torte (I'm inclined to believe him) and our local rabbi, who told me while we were working out (he takes karate too) that a week of eating matzo is enough to wring the evil out of anybody.

So, if you're feeling evil but want to get right AND if you hate chocolate, give this recipe a shot. Otherwise let me know and I'll see if I can get the recipe for Don's flourless chocolate torte.

9 Winter Recipes

The quandary of cook-through food blogging: what is more important, cooking the recipes, or blogging about them? When I have to choose one or the other due to time constraints, cooking always wins. Not the best scenario for you, dear reader, but luckily I don't have any scruples about combining many dishes into one post.

So here for your reading pleasure is a catch-up post on what's been happening in the Palladino kitchen over the last few months.

Herbed Lima Bean Hummus

When I was a kid, if you asked me if I hated any foods I would have promptly said "hot dogs and lima beans". But now I see that it's all in the preparation (although I'm sorry to say the only thing you can do to improve hot dogs is drown out their taste with the spiciest chili imaginable).

After you've cooked limas with an onion and some garlic, you whiz them up in a food processor with herbs, spices, lemon juice and olive oil. If you're squeamish about spending the bucks for all those fresh herbs in the market (because this calls for fresh cilantro, parsley, dill AND mint) wait for summer when they're abundant and free if you know the right gardeners.

This recipe is a win. I could eat it every day.

Ham and Black-Eyed Pea Soup with Collard Greens

Of the many bean-based soups in the book, this one has got to be the fastest. A few cans of black-eyed peas, a slab of ham, diced, a little chicken broth and some collards and hey presto--you've got soup. Very satisfying and if you sweat your onions instead of sauteing them you've got a good spring dieting soup too. Please note that's not my photo--thanks to iamglutenfree.blogspot.com for the swipe (at least I think that's what the script says).

Chicory Salad with Orange and Red Onion

I'm always a little nervous about using bitter greens in salad but I guess they have their place in the universe. One place they occupy nicely is as a counterpoint to a rich entree, like the Shrimp in Coconut Milk, seen here all snuggled up on the same plate.

This salad was pretty good though it called for vast and amazing amounts of chicory to be trimmed away (the dark green outer leaves--good for soups, says the book). If your chicory is like my chicory you can't wash it enough--it must be grown primarily in sand so take heed and wash wash wash. The best way to do it I think is to put the leaves in a big pot or bowl of cold water and let the sand sink to the bottom.

Would I make this salad again? Maybe!

Red Lentil and Tofu Dal

Again, not my photo, and not fully accurate--imagine cubes of creamy white tofu mixed in. Thanks to Recipes for a Postmodern Planet for the swipe.

This recipe was beyond fantastic because of the spices. If you like Indian food in general, you'll swoon over this. It calls for Garam Masala which you can make but also now (thanks to McCormick's ever-adventuresome spice offerings) buy pre-mixed in the supermarket. Vegetarians, this one's for you.

Cauliflower with Ginger and Mustard Seeds

Cauliflower is not the first vegetable I turn to in the produce section when I'm grabbing stuff for dinner. It's not even the second one, and actually not the third one. In fact it might be somewhere down the list with broccoli rabe. Why? It's a perfectly innocuous vegetable but it seems sort of boring and also it's white which makes it seem somehow less healthy than green and orange things which of course is nonsense.

If you too feel uninspired by cauliflower look no further than this dish to create a little excitement with flavors that really pop and an ingredient that actually literally pops--mustard seeds, when heated in a skillet, will pop right out of the pan. So be careful. And enjoy this one--it's a nice way to mix up your weekday veggie repertoire.

Swiss Chard and Chickpeas

Trying to eat less meat? This is a quick week-day supper that will give you veggies, protein and fiber all in one fell swoop and it's also super fast and great for lunch the next day. Sometimes that's all you really need so if this is one of those times, go for it.

Sweet Potato Pie with Bourbon Cream

Aw, just when you thought I was getting all healthy on you with all these veggies and beans--no way, brothers and sisters. My dedication to butterfat remains as constant as ever. I am also pretty close to finishing the Pie chapter so I took the opportunity at our last book group (Serena by Ron Rash in case you're wondering) to make this pie.

What's different about this pie? Frankly I was amazed at how many of my fellow book groupies had never had sweet potato pie so that's different--might be a new experience for your diners. Two, the sweets potatoes are roasted, not boiled. Pretty subtle. Other than that it's just a good old sweet potato pie made with bourbon, and topped with heavy cream flavored with more bourbon. Can you really go wrong here? I think not.

Lemon Pound Cake

With this cake done, I can now count the remaining cake recipes on one hand. Five left, people!!

I made this for my writer's group and it was pretty easy to put together (if you don't mind zesting a gazillion lemons)--my only problem with it was that it just wouldn't finish baking in the middle. See that crack up there? I baked this pound cake for well over an hour and that one spot just wouldn't bake. Weird and vexing but it was still delicious (if slightly, er, moist in that center part). The book suggests serving with strawberries and I did.

Hmm, maybe I'll make that Passover Sponge Cake for my writer's group tonight.....

Coeurs a la Creme with Blackberries

This is one of the recipes I thought I would never get around to making. For one thing it calls for a special mold and for another it seems fantastically complicated. But, somewhere around Valentine's Day I found myself having a dinner party and since we inherited some heart-shaped molds from our neighbor Marjorie

it seemed like the obvious dessert choice.

Make no mistake--this dessert is kind of a pain. Anything that asks you to force a solid through a fine sieve is going to be irritating. Ditto for lining the little molds--individually--with damp cheesecloth. But what a pay-off! A sweet little dessert that will melt the hearts of your friends and loved ones, and the portion size is just right for a tasty but not too filling treat. Anybody local who wants to try this I'm happy to lend you these molds.

So that's the wrap-up, folks! Thanks for being patient, and I'll see you back here soon.

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Gluten-Free recipes in this post: Herbed Lima Bean Hummus, Ham and Black-Eyed Pea Soup with Collard Greens, Chicory Salad with Orange and Red Onion, Red Lentil and Tofu Dal, Swiss Chard and Chickpeas, Cauliflower with Ginger and Mustard Seeds, Coeurs a la Creme with Blackberries

Low-Carb recipes in this post: Chicory Salad with Orange and Red Onion, Red Lentil and Tofu Dal, Cauliflower with Ginger and Mustard Seeds, Swiss Chard and Chickpeas

Low-Fat recipes in this post: Swiss Chard and Chickpeas, Red Lentil and Tofu Dal, Cauliflower with Ginger and Mustard Seeds

Paleolithic recipes in this post: Cauliflower with Ginger and Mustard Seeds

Recipe WINs in this post: Herbed Lima Bean Hummus, Red Lentil and Tofu Dal

Glazed Duck with Clementine Sauce

I was at work the other day when this guy, Otis, flagged me down.

"Hey Melissa," he said, "any tips for cooking duck? Whenever I've tried it, it doesn't really work out that well."

Turns out he was roasting it like a chicken--just throwing it in a 375 oven and letting the heat do its work. Problem was he was getting tough, stringy meat, and was kind of turned off by all that fatty skin.

How DO you cook duck? There are a few recipes for it in the book--one is the fantastic Duck Legs and Carrots, where you submerge the legs halfway in broth (and carrots), leaving the skin cresting above to get nice and crispy. Another is Duck Breasts with Orange-Ancho Chili Sauce, which I loved so much I decided to marry. (You think I'm kidding, don't you? I'm not.)

And then of course there's the not-yet-embarked-upon Fragrant Crispy Duck, a day-long, multi-step procedure that includes the use of an electric fan. Stay tuned for that, but not today.

So here's the thing with duck. One troublesome area is the ginormous layer of fat on top of the very lean breast meat. The other is that the breast meat and the legs take to different cooking types of cooking--the legs like to be well cooked, while the breast meat is pretty awesome when it's seared on the outside and cooked to medium rare, just like your favorite steak.

I was curious to see how Glazed Duck with Clementine Sauce would tackle this situation, and here's how they do it--using a Chinese technique called "twice-cooked".

And what does that mean, exactly? Well, it goes in the oven twice, but the first time is covered in a medium oven for a long time--2 hours--and then a high-heat finishing at 500 for 30 minutes or so to crisp up the skin.

This is how the first part goes: you loosen up the fat layer on the breast by sliding your fingers around in between the meat and the skin and prick it with a fork, the better to help the fat escape. Rub salt all over the duck, put quartered onions and celery ribs in the cavity, and sprinkle a little sugar around the sides. Then pour boiling water OVER the ducks (the skin tightens right up--it's kind of amazing) and fill the pan halfway. Then cover it up and throw it in the oven for two hours, pulling it out halfway to flip it over.

I have to say, my duck didn't look very promising when I took it out after this step:

It goes into the fridge after this for four hours to "firm up", and all of the cooking liquid goes in too--so the fat solidifies on top and you can get rid of it. And although this is a scary looking duck up there, take a look at the skin--looks like normal, right? No half-inch layer of fat. That's because the braising melted it all away.

When you've returned to this project after, say, doing your taxes or catching up on a season's worth of The Fringe, you start on the sauce.

That's 2 cups of fresh-squeezed clementine juice and finely sliced zest from the peel, which gets blanched in boiling water. The juice is brought to a boil with vinegar and suager, and reduced to about 1/3 cup. A little bit of this is set aside for the glaze, and then the zest and 1 cup of de-fatted cooking liquid gets stirred into the rest.

And now! The transformation! The duck is roasted at 500 until the skin is crisp, and then brushed with glaze. And--voila!

I know, can you believe it? Then there's some more sauce-finishing that involves shallots and Cointreau and whatnot--and the finished plate is--ta da!

It almost doesn't matter how it tastes because it looks so good but you'll be happy to hear it tasted as good as it looks. Which is saying a lot.

Otis--here's your duck recipe. You're welcome!

Shrimp in Coconut Milk

Hello, native shrimp. We've met before. Oh, you don't remember? Think back to a few summers ago to the Seafood Smackdown...

Where the mystery seafood, unveiled at the last moment, was Native Shrimp. Five pounds of it, beautifully cleaned, with which we made fancy little lettuce-wrapped shrimp bundles:

That were oh so tasty and delicious but lost by one point to the cream sauce-laden fried spaghetti bowls next door. Ah well, should we really be surprised?

You may not know that the North Atlantic has shrimp. I actually got into a big argument with my first husband once when I said that I had seen a little shrimp frolicking in the tidal waters and sea grass behind our cabin on North Haven. No shrimp around here, he said. Oh yes there are, said I.

This is what they look like, uncooked:

That's right, in their natural state, they're pink. Unlike the shrimp we buy from the supermarket, which look like this:

...and then turn pink. If you would like to read a boring paper about different types of shrimp and where they live, what they eat, where they spawn, and how they're affected by temperature, go here.

So if I didn't get these fancy shrimp in the supermarket, where did I get them? Regular readers know that I participate in a CSF, or Community Supported Fishery, where I pick up 4-6 lbs of whole fish once a week (well, every other week since I'm splitting it with my friend Elizabeth) and the winter share includes shrimp. Yay for winter!

Except, boo for winter because 4-6 pounds of shrimp turns out to be really time consuming to behead and beshell! So I'm finally getting back around to one of the points of mentioning the Seafood Smackdown up there, which is that you'll notice that I said we were given 5 lbs of beautifully cleaned shrimp, and NOW I KNOW how tedious that process is. Thank you, anonymous shrimp-cleaner, whoever you are!

So finally we come to the meal of the day here, which is Shrimp in Coconut Milk.

Mmm. You might be thinking coconut milk = southeast Asian, but you'd be wrong--this was inspired (say the headnotes) by a trip to Brazil, (where some cook there was probably inspired by a trip to southeast Asia.) How do you make it? Like so:

Make a shrimp stock by boiling your shrimp shells in water, and while you're doing that, mix up the shrimp with some lime juice and salt and throw it in the fridge. Then saute garlic, bell peppers and onions in a pan, add a little flour for thickening, then a big can of diced tomatoes, a can of coconut milk and 2 cups of shrimp stock. Let it cook until the veggies are tender, then toss in the shrimp. Sprinkle with cilantro and scallions, serve over rice, and you've got dinner!

How was it? I screwed up the rice. I combined two types of long-grain white rice and somehow half the rice was over cooked and the other half was undercooked and all I could think of was This Would Totally Get Me Kicked Off Top Chef. Fellow chefs, former chefs, would-be chefs, don't tell me you don't think exactly the same way, imagining Tom Colicchio shaking his head in sorrow and disbelief that you could have screwed up something so basic, which we all do from time to time. Piss off, Tom Colicchio, and get out of my head--I lost all respect for you when you started shilling for Diet Coke. And I'll cook the rice better next time.

Chocolate Bread Pudding and Key Lime Pie

You might think, readers, that the desserts remaining to be made in The Gourmet Cookbook are overly complicated, and thus the wait.

Actually, not so! Well, not so for ALL of them--there are a few that I look over from time-to-time (like oh for example Individual Chocolate Raspberry Baked Alaskas) and I get tired just looking at them. Someday, Baked Alaskas...but not today.

But! There are some recipes I just hadn't gotten around to that are delightfully uncomplicated (with spectacular results). These are two of them.

Chocolate Bread Pudding

This is not my photo--I was too busy hostessing to snap a pic. Thank you, Nothing But Love!

Like many bread puddings, this calls for day-old bread and if you're a savvy shopper (or just too disorganized to plan ahead) you'll remember that your local supermarket sells day-old bread for next to nothing.

Bring cream and milk to a simmer, and pour it over chopped up unsweetened chocolate. You know, the stuff that's definitely in your cupboard because no matter how desperate you get for chocolate, you can't bring yourself to eat it. While that's melting, toss bread cubes with melted butter and put them in a square casserole dish. Whisk a few eggs into the milk and melted chocolate, add sugar and a little vanilla and salt, let it all soak together in a the casserole dish for an hour and then throw that baby in the oven.

That's it! 45 minutes, and done! Serve to your grateful chocolate-loving guests with some fresh whipped cream and feel the love.

Key Lime Pie

The headnotes for this recipe promise that once you make this dessert you'll understand why it's on so many restaurant menus--great dessert for very little effort. And yes, I've made key lime pie before, but technically not THIS recipe, which might not be different from whatever recipe I've used before, who can remember these things?

Anyway, couldn't be simpler. Toss graham cracker crumbs with melted butter and bake in a pie plate for 10 minutes. While it's baking, whisk together 4 egg yolks with a can of sweetened condensed milk and 6 tablespoons of lime juice. I squeezed my own limes, and not key limes either--just plain old limes from the supermarket. Pour this into the pie shell, and bake for 15 minutes. Chill for 8 hours, the recipe says, but mine was perfectly set in 2.

Top with fresh whipped cream and man, is this a good dessert! We had it after Baja-style fish tacos...perfect for a Mexican themed meal.

Beef Tenderloin with Bordelaise Sauce

Behold my father-in-law.

Son of an Italian restaurateur; a Navy cook at age 18; a restaurateur himself for almost four decades--this is a man who sees life through a filter of family and food.

A lot of food. Don't believe me? Check out Christmas dinner for 9 adults and 1 toddler:

A feast! Lovingly and thoughtfully prepared and designed to ensure that nobody goes hungry. But Don Sr.'s concern for the comfort and well-being of others doesn't just end at his own table, which is why I wasn't at all surprised when he pulled me aside during our visit and told me that he had purchased two beef tenderloins and he wanted us to take them home and wine and dine my parents for a New Year's Day dinner. Love, via food, crossing state lines.

Now, you might read that--beef tenderloin, and think, oh, the steak--because that IS what we call the steak cut from the beef tenderloin. You're thinking this:

But that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about a whole beef tenderloin. Like this:

Two of them.

Obviously this calls for more than just a four-person dinner party, don't you think? And exploring the recipes in the Gourmet Cookbook, I decided this was the perfect opportunity to make Beef Tenderloin with Bordelaise Sauce.

So apparently Bordelaise Sauce is a French classic--a quick look at the ingredients and you can see it calls for the usual suspects in a French sauce--veal stock, dry red Bordeaux, aromatics...but it does have one unusual (and optional) ingredient--something I have never come across--beef marrow bones.

Now, my chef friends are perhaps thinking--oh, they're roasted and made into stock, or something along those lines--nope. This is what you do...

Rinse them, then put them in a bowl with warm water to soak for about ten minutes. Why? Because you're going to push the marrow out and throw the bones away. Now that you've got all these semi-soft marrow cylinders, you cut them into 1/8 inch rounds and put them in a bowl where you cover them with cold water. And then let them soak for 24 hours, changing the water twice.

Why the 24 hour cold soak? And the water change? I can honestly tell you (after doing it) that I have absolutely no idea. I couldn't see that anything significant was being poured off while I was changing the water (unlike, say, soaking salt cod). So, I just don't know. If you know, enlighten me! Also you can see those are hardly 1/8 inch wide--more like a 1/3. So sue me.

Anyway, then you make the sauce--you combine the wine, stock etc, and boil til reduced to a tiny little bit of liquid. Here's the starting pot:

...and in this case I reduced it to 2/3 a cup since I was doubling the recipe. Then you add the veal stock (in my case beef stock--sorry Thomas Keller) and bring it to a boil...strain, thicken with arrowroot and add a little Madeira. I would also like to take a moment to be grateful for the patience of liquor store owners everywhere who have to put up with people like me, who wander in asking for "dry" Madeira because a recipe calls for it.

That's it. There's your sauce. You might be wondering where the marrow comes in? Hang on...

You can make the sauce in advance, which I did. We had the dinner party at my parent's house, and I roasted the tenderloins there. I entertained the crowd by searing the tenderloins first on a heavy-duty cookie sheet laid across two burners, and then roasting them in a 350 oven.

The marrow gets prepared like this--first, poached in salted broth for about 8 minutes. Then, added to the sauce. And...what does this poached marrow add? Well, it's kind of like melty warm beefy fat globules. Which, you know, isn't bad. The headnotes for the recipe says it adds "sybaritic luxury" which I never did look up but I think has something to do with Roman feasting in togas or maybe Pan with all his red wine drinking. Oh all right, I'll look it up. Here we go, from Wikipedia--the final paragraph:

The word Sybaritic has become a byword meaning extreme luxury and a seeking for pleasure and comfort. One story has a Sybarite turning in his bed sleeplessly, because a crumpled rose petal had gotten into it. The best known anecdote of the Sybarites is of their defeat in battle. It is told that to amuse themselves the Sybarite cavalrymen trained their horses to dance to pipe music. Armed with pipes, an invading army from nearby Crotonia assailed the Sybarite cavalry with music. The attacking forces easily passed through the dancing horses and their helpless riders, and conquered the city.

OK, decadent and luxurious...I'll buy that. Or eat that. Whatever. I will not train my cat to dance to pipes, though. Think of the advantage the mice might have!

Here's the feast in progress...

If food be the music of love play on...no wait, if music be the food of love play on...HANG ON...

Music

Food

Love

That works for me.

3 Festive Winter Drinks

Cold? Tired? Had long freakin' day? Step into my kitchen, friend--I have just the drink for you.

Mulled Red Wine

I made Mulled Red Wine when my friend Ben and his boyfriend Steven came over on Rockport's First Night, New Year's Eve. Ben was scheduled to sing downtown at one of the churches (he's got a gorgeous tenor) and is there anything better than a little booze to loosen up those vocal cords? I think not!

I get excited about mulled red wine, because long long ago in a country far far away, I learned how to ski on a terrifying sheet of ice high up in the Alps somewhere. So high the town below was permanently in shadow, no matter how bright and sunny the day. I'm not sure spring skiing on a sheet of ice is the best way to learn how to ski, but a high point for me was stopping halfway down the precipitous slope for lunch, where they also liberally served (even to the high school students) a magical concoction called gluhwein.

This was, essentially, mulled red wine. And let me tell you people, I'm not sure it improved my skiing but it certainly lifted my mood and made me a fan of the stuff for life.

So what's in mulled red wine? Sugar and spice and everything nice, by which I mean a little brandy for kick and some citrus peel to round out the flavor. This recipe says to put the spices in a cheesecloth square and cinch it up but you don't have to--that's just to be neat (probably a German idea, come to think of it). Anyway, good stuff and very festive if you've been outside in the elements, skiing or shoveling or just building snowmen.

Irish Coffee

I couldn't decide whether or not to serve the guys Mulled Red Wine or Irish Coffee, so as is my way, I made both. They were thrilled! And so was I--usually I'm not an evening coffee drinker but New Year's Eve is a special occasion where you WANT to stay up late. Irish Coffee is a sweet sweet way to get a caffeine injection.

This is super-simple--basically a little Irish whiskey + a little sugar in a cup, add fresh brewed coffee and top with lightly sweetened whipped cream. And then you're ready to go dance your socks off.

Kir Royale

Bubbly + creme de cassis--you're thinking New Year's Eve again, I'm sure! No, I'm not THAT schizophrenic a hostess, though this would make an excellent New Year's Eve beverage. I served this drink a few nights ago when our friends Mark and Elizabeth came for dinner--we had a bottle of Moet hanging around our house (probably since last New Year's) and what better thing than friendship to celebrate with champagne?

This is another very easy drink if you don't mind buying a largish bottle of Creme de Cassis that you may never use again--basically you pour a little creme de cassis (that's black currant, btw) into a champagne flute and pour the champagne on top. But if you want to try it, and you're at the liquor store, might as well buy a bottle of white burgundy while you're at it so you can at some future date have Kir (white wine + creme de cassis). That's what I did anyway, so keep your eyes peeled for a post on Kir at some point in the future!

Salut!

Black Bean Soup with Rum

Oh black bean soup! Is there anything like you in the dead of winter? I think not.

I'm going to write all about this soup but first I was just reflecting on how probably a vegetarian would look at this and think--oh! Soup for me! But sadly no, the recipe calls for ham hocks (which is not to say it couldn't be made WITHOUT ham hocks, of course it can. But for the cook-through blogger one must follow the recipe, the first time at least!)

And this reflection had me remembering how in my old job there were three vegetarians I had to sometimes consider in meal planning, and two sort-of-partial vegetarians. I made soup from The Gourmet Cookbook so often (and was so vexed by how a soup that one might THINK would be vegetarian actually wasn't) that I actually went through the soup chapter and put a "V" next to the soups that qualified. As vegetarian.

So here I am, looking at the page that has the Black Bean Soup with Rum recipe, and the other three recipes also involve beans, and NONE of them is vegetarian. Somehow that is weird.

Anyway, vegetarians don't forget that Gourmet Today has an ENTIRE chapter dedicated to vegetarian entrees, plus other vegetarian things scattered throughout the book (with a handy index to find them). You should buy that book if you haven't already.

So, Black Bean Soup with Rum! I did the quick-soak with my dried black beans, then sauteed onions, celery, parsley and thyme sprigs with a bay leaf for a while...then added salt pork (they were out of ham hocks--guess everybody had the same idea I did) and beans and stock and water and cooked the dickens out of it for three hours.

Then I took the salt pork out (also the bay and thyme sprigs), added 1/3 cup dark rum (hello Sailor Jerry's) and some lemon juice and used my nifty immersion blender to blendify it. Then I put it through a fine-mesh sieve to get the non-blendified stuff out. By the way, this is in place of using a food mill, which, as you may have read elsewhere on this blog, I hate and will not use.

Then! Dish it up and garnish with a lemon slice, chopped hard-boiled egg, and minced parsley! Ta-da!

I would like to nominate the lemon slice garnish for this soup as Stupidest Garnish Ever. You can't eat it, and when you fish it out it is pretty much impossible to squeeze for juice (and if you tried you would get soup all over your fingers). Basically it's a visual. If I had a category for Stupid Garnishes I would put this one in it, but I only have one for Stupid Recipes (of which happily there are very few!). And this one is NOT a stupid recipe--it's good! Try it! It will make you warmer!

Migas

Readers, when you're doing a project like this you are keenly attuned to certain ingredients and pieces of cooking equipment that are unusual, that sort of lodge in your brain as something to keep an eye out for. This is why, if you were in Market Basket with me not too long ago, you would have heard me gasp, "Veal Tongue!" Adam and Teena know what I'm talking about.

So I was cleaning out my fridge a few days ago and pitching some stuff when I grabbed a foil-wrapped package of something not well-wrapped at all actually--it was a bunch of corn tortillas from Mexican take-out that were kind of dried out from air exposure. I had one hand on the garbage can when I suddenly gasped "stale corn tortillas!"

I had one of the key componants of Migas right in my very hand.

You won't find migas on the breakfast menu here in New England--in fact I'm betting that most northerners have never heard of it. If you're Jewish and matzo brei is or was part of your life you'll have an inkling of what I'm about to describe--this is basically a homestyle, use-the-leftovers type of a meal that involves bacon, onion/garlic, chilies and tomatoes scrambled up with some eggs, refried tortilla pieces, and shredded cheese.

Sounds good? It is good. Really satisfying. It won't win a beauty contest, but that's not what it's for now, is it?

You start by frying some bacon and setting aside, then frying some ripped corn tortillas and setting those aside too. Then saute onions, garlic and chilies, add crumbled bacon and tomatoes and cumin. Then stir in the fried tortilla pieces and pour on the eggs and sprinkle on cheese--stir til set.

That's it! You might have these ingredients in your fridge. Why not look? Or, maybe it's time for some Mexican take-out?