Anytime Meal-in-a-Dish: Baked Eggs

It was on a trip to Ashland umpteen years ago that I first had baked eggs. We'd booked a room at the Chanticleer Inn, a charming bungalow near downtown and the Shakespeare Festival grounds. The night before was a performance of one of the Bard's plays—not the one where some inventive but misguided director thought it would be totally cool if a lunar module descended from the rafters in the middle of the performance—and we'd walked back to the inn in the moonlight, the next morning rising to have coffee and breakfast in the quaint dining room.

Remember recipes on index cards?

Now, a dish can burrow its way into your brain for lots of reasons—a romantic setting, great company, a few too many mimosas—but this one was alluring because of its simplicity. Just butter, eggs, cream and cheese baked to a golden finish, crispy yet creamy, the yolks still oozing.

I'd begged the recipe from the innkeepers and we'd made them often in the years since, but it had been a long time since we'd pulled the stained, yellowed card out of the recipe box. Fortunately Dave was in the mood for making something besides his (perfect) version of Julia Child's cheese omelet, and I was so glad he was. This is one memory that's stood the test of time, and one we'll be enjoying for another umpteen years.

Chanticleer Baked Eggs

Great for brunch for a crowd (baked in individual ramekins) or just for one, the recipe below is the original from the inn (photo above), but we make two eggs for each person, keeping all the other quantities the same. You can also add green onions,  sautéed greens or chopped, cooked bacon before putting in the eggs, or just keep it simple. Come to think of it, this would be great for lunch or dinner, too.

1 tsp. melted butter or margarine
1 Tbsp. cream or milk
1 egg [we use two]
Havarti or other cheese, grated
Salt and pepper, to taste

Butter a 3 1/2-oz. ramekin or custard dish. Add cream. Gently crack a large, farm fresh egg [we use two] into the ramekin. Season with salt and pepper. Sprinkle cheese on top. Bake in pre-heated 425° oven for 8-10 minutes or until white is firm and center still wiggles.

Quick Hits: Ps and Qs Market

Once upon a time your neighborhood market was a little mom-and-pop place where neighbors could pick up a quart of milk or a loaf of bread and their kids could stop in with a dime and buy candy. The owners would often live above the store and their kids went to school with your kids. Those small businesses eventually disappeared with the advent of so-called convenience markets like 7 Eleven and Plaid Pantry that were packed with snack foods, sodas and cigarettes and weren't the sort of places you wanted your children hanging out in.

Now small markets are popping up in neighborhoods again, stocked with dry goods, milk, cheese and bread, some even featuring a café with a deli and homemade soups and sandwiches. Ps and Qs Market, in the DIY spirit that is taking root and growing a new business district in Northeast Portland's Woodlawn neighborhood, is a shout-out to those little stores of yesteryear.

The mom and pop in this case are Emily Anderson and Paul Davis, a young couple who enlisted friends and family to transform an abandoned storefront church into a neighborhood market, a piece they felt was missing from the puzzle of the developing area. (Their endearingly sincere Kickstarter video tells you just how committed these folks are.)

Open from lunch through dinner, with the requisite weekend brunch hours, these two are no babes in the woods. Anderson came from managing Bryan Steelman's ¿Por Que No? and Davis cooked for years at various small restaurants around town, Bröder and Podnah's among them.

With light pouring into the space from the big windows on its face, the front is the coffee shop and deli where residents can grab a cup of joe and share the latest gossip over a pastry or sandwich. The bulk goods, produce and large refrigerated cases of milk, cheese and other fresh items line the side and rear walls, with the bustling open kitchen and service counter taking up the center of the room.

Our lunch there was on a quiet day, with neighbors stopping to chat and pat the heads of children and dogs, an unshackled bicycle leaning casually against the building. We shared soup (a Latin-inflected tomato-and-bean with corn dumplings) and a couple of sandwiches (pulled pork for Dave, rosy house-roasted beef for me). We sat outside in the shade of the awning, feeling like this little bootstrap of a market is just the kind of place that makes our city a good place to live. Which includes the local kids who stop in for red vines for a dime.

Details: Ps and Qs Market, 1301 NE Dekum St. 503-894-8979.

Quick Hits: Raven & Rose, Mirakutei, Clemente's

In recent years there's been a dearth of great places to have lunch downtown, with most of the hot lunch action taking place on the east side of the river. Not that I'm complaining, mind you, since that's my side of town, but when there are friends on the west side with prescribed lunch hours, it'd be nice to have someplace decent to drop into.

Perfect celery root soup with lardons, chive blossoms.

Fortunately for downtowners, there's more than just Clyde Common and Higgins for a nice-to-fancy spot for a business lunch, a meet-up with your auntie or just a soup-and-sando with a friend. And since it's located in one of downtown's oldest buildings, a former stable for city father William Ladd's horses, Raven and Rose provides plenty of fodder (ha!) for conversation.

Rabbit Caesar salad.

Open less than six months, R&R's menu offerings, under the direction of Exec Chef David Padberg, are coming along nicely, with the intimate dining room opening for lunch just a week ago. Lunch revolves around a selection of soups and salads, a few sandwiches and a sampling of larger plates with staples like fish and chips, shepherd's pie, a couple of seafood options and a pasta dish that are augmented with Padberg's stable of seasonal vegetables and greens along with herbs from his prodigious garden.

Rhubarb phosphate.

The rabbit Caesar I ordered was spot-on, the rabbit, sourced from a small local farm, braised to fall-apart perfection and shredded over a bed of tender local greens. My friend's black cod was similar to the version found on the dinner menu, roasted and placed on top of cannelini beans, chard stems, celery and wild mushrooms. I couldn't resist ordering a rhubarb phosphate, though I was tempted by the anise spritzer that was also on the non-alcoholic beverage list. There is, of course, a complete menu of fully-leaded cocktails, wine and beer available, but I like the seasonal sodas that Padberg and Dave Shenaut, R&R's bar director, are developing, a category that isn't often found on PDX bev menus.

Next time I'm going for the fish and chips, since I'm obsessed with finding a decent representative of that most quintessential pub grub, and the burgers and fries ordered by other patrons looked luscious. Comfortable and clubby inside, with outdoor tables ringing the building on sunny days, this is a nice place to spend even a short lunch hour.

Details: Raven & Rose, 1331 SW Broadway. 503-222-7673.

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It can be said, without equivocating in the least, that I adore sushi and its riceless cousin, sashimi. They would be my choice for breakfast, lunch and dinner if it was possible. Though I'm married to someone who, while he enjoys it on occasion, is just not as cuckoo as I am for these articles of Japanese cuisine, which means lunches are a good time to head out for a fix.

There are several good places to experience this food in Portland, though it's slow going getting around to them due to the (mostly justifiably) pricey tabs that can be run up sampling this and that. Mirakutei, just over the bridge from downtown on East Burnside, is a little hole-in-the-wall spot to do just that.

It's built its reputation on ramen, but I found both the sushi and sashimi to be moderately priced and cleanly made, with super-fresh fish that was beautifully and simply presented. Well worth checking out, especially on week days.

Details: Mirakutei, 536 E Burnside St. 503-467-7501.

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Tables of steam trays, racks of meat under heat lamps and baskets and bowls heaped with pastries and out-of-season fruit have always puzzled me as a solution to a holiday breakfast. Maybe it's that Grannie and Uncle Henry and the nieces and nephews can all find at least one thing in the pile they'll like, but, really?

Clemente's.

Call us fogies, but we rarely go out for a traditional brunch or even for breakfast, preferring to sit and sip our coffee, read the paper and maybe have toast or an omelet, all in the comfort of our jammies and slippers. So on Mother's Day, when the males in the household said we were going to go on a road trip dubbed the Magical Mother's Day Mystery Tour, especially when it was mentioned that the dogs would be coming with us, I was in.

A terrific Bloody Mary.

Without a blindfold, it was pretty obvious when we hit Highway 30 that we were heading for the beach, so when we pulled into Astoria around one-ish I was more than ready to fill the gaping hole that had opened up since toast and coffee earlier that morning. Fortunately, we pulled up in front of Clemente's, the refreshing addition to Astoria's previously moribund dining scene, a place where seasonal and local rule and ingredients are treated with knowledge and respect.

Supremely satisfying crab Caesar.

It was a casual, order-off-the-menu brunch-or-lunch scene with not a steam table in sight, and I exercised my mother's privilege of ordering a Bloody Mary made with house mix and home pickles, followed by a half dozen local oysters. They needed just a couple of drops of lemon before being consumed, and then my crab Caesar arrived with a pile of Dungeness smiling up at me from the plate. Though Dave hit the jackpot with his seafood-alicious cioppino (top photo), crammed with salmon, oysters, scallops and crab. Other than a puzzling spoonful of quinoa on one side of my salad, it was a particularly satisfying way to celebrate the holiday, especially since it was followed by a romp on the beach and a (for me) sleepy ride home.

Details: Clemente's, 1198 Commercial St., Astoria. 503-325-1067.

The Basics: Strata

It's become a Sunday morning tradition around here. After Will Shortz has his way with a listener on the puzzle segment of NPR's Weekend Edition Sunday, Dave starts puttering around the kitchen making breakfast. Sometimes it's as simple as his fabulous cheese omelets,  other times he's got some sourdough left over from bread baking to use for biscuits or even waffles. I know that whatever it is, it's going to be delicious and I try to be appropriately appreciative.

My recipe box, broken cover and all.

But on Christmas Day a few weeks ago, falling as it did on a Sunday, I wanted to let him off the hook regarding breakfast. I pondered the usual suspects…a frittata, pancakes, coffee cake…and then remembered strata, which I hadn't made for years. I pulled out my trusty old recipe box and found the stained index card right there in the Eggs and Cheese section.

Dead easy, this cheater's souffle consists of bread, eggs, milk and cheese and whatever other ingredients you want to add. Usually, in our case, this means mushrooms and bacon, but can include herbs, kale, tomatoes, asparagus, ham or other meat or seafood.

Fortunately this cogitating was happening a day ahead, since strata really needs to be assembled the night before, with the bread spending all night absorbing the custardy goodness of the eggs and milk in order to achieve its utmost loveliness. So I dashed to the store, splurged on some chanterelle mushrooms that would go nicely with the last of the bacon from Roger and got a few pieces of fruit for a salad.

After popping it in the oven the next morning, it bubbled away while we dug into our stockings. (And yes, we still do stockings around here…how else can you surprise someone with that DVD they've been ogling online?) And I think Dave was pleased that Santa had thought to make breakfast for him for a change.

Bacon, Cheese and Chanterelle Strata

3-4 c. bread, cut in 1/2" cubes (remove crusts only if you want)
1/2 lb. sharp cheddar or other cheese, grated
1/2 lb. bacon, cut in 1/4" strips
1/4 c. butter or margarine, melted
1/2 lb. mushrooms, chopped
3 eggs
2 c. milk
1 tsp. Dijon mustard
1/2 tsp. salt

The day before baking, sauté bacon until fat begins to render. Add chopped mushrooms and sauté till mushrooms get limp. Remove from heat and cool. Beat eggs, milk, mustard and salt in a small mixing bowl. In a medium casserole dish (I used my small Le Creuset casserole), place half the bread cubes, topped with half the meat and mushroom mixture, half the cheese and half the melted butter. Repeat with another layer of the remaining bread cubes, meat mixture, cheese and butter. Pour the egg mixture over the top. You can add a little more milk if it seems too dry, but go easy—the bread shouldn't be swimming in liquid. Cover with plastic wrap and place in refrigerator overnight to soak.

The next morning, preheat the oven to 300°. Place the casserole in a larger pan with about 3/4" of hot water (I used my 9" by 12" Pyrex baking dish) and place those in the oven. Bake for 90 minutes.

Read more recipes in The Basics series: 20 Minute Tomato Sauce, House Vinaigrette, Chile Sauce and Caesar Salad.