Spring Thing: Maple Bread Pudding with Nancy Harmon Jenkins

It's Easter weekend and I can't think of anything more appropriate than my friend Nancy Harmon Jenkins's super-easy maple bread pudding, especially if you use the first of the season's local eggs from a farmer who raises her chickens on pasture. (A trip to the farmers' market on Saturday morning would be awesome!)

Get the recipe here and make it for brunch served with yogurt, or drizzled with warm syrup and a dollop of whipped cream for dessert after your ham dinner. What could be more perfect? Thanks, Nancy!

USDA to Revoke Organic Animal Welfare Rule

The video above shows what organic egg production looks like at one Oregon factory farm. Crowded into closed-in barns, with "outside access" limited to a roofed-in, screened, cement-floored patio with panels preventing the chickens from even seeing outside, is not what people imagine when they see the words "cage free" on the carton.

And it's about to get a lot worse unless you act now.

Factory farmed pigs.

The demand from consumers for organic products has caused that segment of the grocery industry to explode. It's caught the attention of large agribusiness, which has been seeing its portion of the market starting to decline.

A new rule, carefully developed over the last decade, setting consistent and humane animal welfare standards for organic production, was about to go into effect when the current administration delayed its implementation. Over the holidays, USDA Secretary Sonny Perdue announced he was going to completely withdraw the new rule from consideration, a step that corporate agribusiness has been pushing for.

The USDA's Agricultural Marketing Service (AMS) is accepting comments on its decision through Wednesday, January 17, so action is needed immediately. The Center for Food Safety has provided a simple form to submit a comment on this rule. It may sound alarmist, but the integrity of the organic label, including our health, and that of our communities and the environment, is at stake. I sincerely hope you consider signing it.

Devilishly Delightful: 4 of My Best Deviled Egg Recipes

I don't know about you, but whenever I make deviled eggs, for my family or a gathering, the ooh-ing and aah-ing just won't quit. Maybe it's the eggs from pasture-raised chickens with their marigold yolks—I've been accused of using turmeric to amp up their color—but they invariably disappear without a trace.

This is the time to buy the best eggs you can get, so don't settle for store-bought eggs that may be up to a month old. (And be forewarned: their extraordinary flavor and freshness might just convince you they're worth the price to use all the time.)

Here's a pro tip: use my tried-and-true, easy-peel method to hard-boil those fresh-from-the-farm eggs. And another tip: if you don't have one of those deviled egg platters like the one in the top photo, slice lettuce or other greens into chiffonade and spread them over a plate (photo, left). The eggs sit up like champs!

Happy summer!

Mom's Mustard Deviled Eggs

6 hard-boiled eggs
2 tsp. dijon mustard, either smooth or seeded
1/4-1/3 c. mayonnaise
Paprika for garnish

Hard-boil eggs using my method. Halve hard-boiled eggs, removing yolks and putting them in a small mixing bowl and placing whites on serving tray. Mash yolks with fork until there are no lumps. Add mustard and mayonnaise and combine, stir well until smooth, adjusting mayonnaise to taste (you don't want it too dry or too creamy). Fill halves of whites with yolk mixture.

Place a fine sieve over a small bowl and add paprika. Carefully lift the sieve about 10" above the eggs and tap the edge to gently shower them with a dusting of the paprika. Serve.

* * *

All-Time Favorite Spanish-style Deviled Eggs

6 hard-boiled eggs
2 anchovy fillets
4 Tbsp. mayonnaise
9 green olives, preferably anchovy-stuffed Spanish olives
Pinch of smoked Spanish paprika plus more for sprinkling
Moroccan harissa or other chile sauce for garnish

Hard-boil eggs using my method. Halve eggs, putting yolks in small mixing bowl and placing whites on serving tray. Using long-tined fork, crush yolks until thoroughly mashed. Add anchovy fillets and mash into yolks. Chop six of the olives finely and add, with mayonnaise and pinch of paprika, to egg yolk mixture. Mix thoroughly. Fill whites with egg mixture and arrange on platter.

Slice each remaining olive crosswise into four rounds and top each egg with one, then put a small bit of the harissa on top of the olive. Put another pinch of smoked paprika into small mesh sieve and, tapping lightly, sprinkle platter with paprika. Serve.

* * *

Curry Mustard Deviled Eggs with Fried Sage Leaves

6 hard-boiled eggs
3/4 tsp. curry powder
2 tsp. dijon mustard, either smooth or stoneground
1/4 c. mayonnaise (approx.)
2 Tbsp. canola oil
12 sage leaves
Smoked Spanish paprika (pimenton) and sage flowers, if available, for garnish

Hard-boil eggs using my method. When cool, halve hard-boiled eggs, removing yolks and placing them in a small mixing bowl and placing whites on a serving platter. Mash yolks with fork. Add curry powder, mustard, oil and mayonnaise and combine, stirring until there are no lumps. Fill halves of whites with yolk mixture.

In frying pan, heat oil until it shimmers but doesn't smoke (I always flick a few drops of water into the oil…when it spatters it's hot enough). Add sage leaves, a few at a time, and fry for a few seconds on each side. Like making crostini in the broiler, the key is to not turn away because they'll burn the instant you do. So stand there and wait. Remove to paper towel to drain and cool. Sprinkle eggs with pimenton (see method, above), top each with a sage leaf and scatter sage flowers on the platter.

* * *

Fresh Horseradish Deviled Eggs with Chorizo

6 slices Spanish-style chorizo*
6 hard-boiled eggs
1-2 Tbsp. fresh horseradish root, grated finely (a microplane works great)
2 tsp. dijon mustard, either smooth or seeded
1/4-1/3 c. mayonnaise
Paprika for garnish

In small skillet over medium-high heat, cook chorizo slices until crispy. Remove to paper towel to drain. When cool, halve and reserve.

Hard-boil eggs using my method. Halve hard-boiled eggs, removing yolks and putting them in a small mixing bowl and placing whites on serving tray. Mash yolks with fork until there are no lumps. Add mustard, finely grated horseradish and mayonnaise and combine, stirring well until smooth, adjusting horseradish to taste (it can vary in strength and heat depending on where it's from, how old it is, etc., so start light and adjust). Fill halves of whites with yolk mixture. Top each egg with a half slice of chorizo.

Place a fine sieve over a small bowl and add paprika. Carefully lift the sieve about 10" above the eggs and tap the edge to gently shower them with a dusting of the paprika. Serve.

* Spanish-style chorizo is a salami-like cured product. If you can't find authentic Spanish chorizo, Fra' Mani makes a Salametto Piccante, or you can use Olympia Provisions' chorizo.

Bar Pinotxo in Barcelona: A Portland Connection

A fellow named Robin Willis, a former Portlander and a filmmaker, artist, writer, bon vivant and friend of contributor Jim Dixon of Real Good Food, was in town recently with his new book "Bar Pinotxo: God is in the Garbanzos" about the "history, stories, and recipes from the 17 stool chiringuito in the most famous mercado in the world." (See video, above, and be sure to turn on the closed captioning.) This legendary bar is in Barcelona, where Willis now lives, and he recently shared a recipe from that book.

As Jordi [Asin, the chef at Bar Pinotxo] says, “good food comes from poor cultures… a rich culture has everything they want but those with less have to get by, refine, reuse and make the best out of simple ingredients” and like the vast majority of Spanish and Catalan dishes it is the simplicity of the technique and the quality of ingredients that make this dish so magical, sensuous, tasty and in this case, a little bit... dirty.

"Now how do I eat this?”

Another aspect of life in Iberia is that people here are not afraid to touch each other, things and food... both theirs and that that technically belonging to others. When they cook they dive in with both hands as naked as the day they arrived in this odd and beautiful place. Poking, squeezing, wiping, tasting…sometimes licking. Obviously, here when it comes to microbes it’s the more the merrier and considering that Spain has the healthiest population in Europe it must be working.

With this in mind here’s a potential eating scenario: Undoubtedly you will start by picking the clams out of their shells with your fork… and you might just stab an errant chunk of briny egg. Soon you will realize that much of the egg has affixed itself to the shell and ultimately to the meat of the clam. The residual heat has pretty much melded their molecules or at least glued them together pretty damn well. What are you going to do, go for the low hanging fruit? The big chunks? The easy pickings…and leave the rest on the plate? You are not one of those people who leave behind pizza bones, are you?

God bless you for your propriety, and this plan of attack may be the correct and tidy thing to do but you will miss out on all of the good stuff and you will go away hungry and frustrated. Give up and give in…put down that fork, grab one of those tiny mollusks, spread the shells apart, stick out your tongue and get busy. OK…I could get really descriptive about the sea-i-ness and salt-i-ness and the firm rigid texture of the clams and how this contrasts with the warm soft suppleness of the eggs and how you have to use your tongue and your teeth to scrap them off of the rock hard shells…and how it seems oh so beautiful but at the same time oh so obscene and forbidden but just oh so right…but I shan't…I shall leave some things up to imagination. Just go for it.

Scrambled Eggs with Very Small Clams

Serves 2 as a main dish or more as tapas.

Big dash of extra virgin olive oil
300 grams (10 oz.) of really fresh tallerinas [1] [very small clams like littlenecks]
50 grams (2 oz.) of thinly sliced onions
2 or 3 high quality, free range eggs from very happy chickens [2]
Sea salt flakes [3]
Twist of freshly ground black pepper or a dusting of Pimenton de la Vera [4]

Secret cooking tool: 1 glass pan lid…and it has to be glass because you have to see what’s going deep inside the pleasure dome. (Jordi and company put the clams directly on the griddle and use an old pyrex bread pan. They also have a quarter inch of callouses on their fingers. Trust me, use the pan lid.)

Beat the eggs well.

Pre-heat a skillet to medium—relax, no matter what you do it will come out really tasty—unless you go for a half hour jog or something while it's cooking, now that's a different story. Add the olive oil. Let the oil heat up a second of two then lower the heat then fry the onions very slowly until golden and then add them to the beaten eggs. Frying onions at a low temperature is part of the "sofregit" Catalan karmic cooking experience.

Toss in a little more oil and add the tallerinas. Now quickly cover the pan with the pan lid (you are in effect making a steamer). Paying attention, you will notice that in a short while the tallerinas will open and release this amazing sea juice that was trapped inside their shells. Once all the clams have opened (and this is the tricky part because you want as many of them as possible to open but you also don't want all the juice to evaporate) remove the lid and toss in the eggs and onion mixture then lightly oscillate everything with a wooden spoon.

Cover the pan and watch closely. Once the eggs are just “cooked” (and by this I mean they have just turned opaque... undercooked is better than overcooked) switch off the heat. The residual temperature of the pan and the clams will finish cooking the eggs. Slide the eggs and the clams (which have now become one, more or less) into shallow bowls. Add a sprinkle of the salt, a crack of pepper or a very light dusting of the pimenton and serve while it’s still warm.

[1] These are very small clams. But bigger ones work fine too. OK... steamers... no geoducks! 
[2] In Spain we have amazing chickens. Small, wiry and happy and sadly for them, really tasty. They are sort of the Antonio Banderas of poultry... and they make amazing eggs that need no refrigeration. Nevera? Nevera? We don't need no stinkin’ Nevera!
[3] I once almost got into a fist fight over the concept of "finishing salt." Apparently it's the salt you finish with as opposed to the salt you start with. Nonsense! Any good, flaky sea salt will do. Maldon is great stuff as is the smoked stuff from Brittany. What you want is wispy little pillows of salt. No rock salt pellets, please.
[4] Oh my how I love this stuff. Smoky, round, dusky…Pimenton de La Vera is to generic paprika what bacon is to olive loaf. People have to stop me from putting it on ice cream. It comes but from one small county in the harsh and wild province of the aptly named Extremadura.

A User's Guide to Good Eggs

Eggs are getting a lot of press these days, from the ballyhoo over big corporations announcing they'll only use cage-free eggs to debates over the credibility of the dizzying plethora of labels stuck all over the cartons in supermarket egg cases. So when I read this deep dive into the subject by my friend, writer Lynne Curry, I knew you'd be as intrigued as I was.

The other day I met a woman in the grocery store where we stood side by side scanning the overflowing options of the yogurt aisle. I felt almost dizzy trying to find organic yogurt.

When I reached for a quart of grassfed Stonyfield, she laughed. “That’s what I was looking for!” And then we chatted briefly about the ridiculously high sugar content in flavored yogurt for our kids.

She’s another shopper like me, I thought as I watched her walk toward the egg section. No supermarket stalker, I looked on with curiosity because I’ve been researching and writing about organic egg production here and here.

Again, she mulled over the offerings and surveyed the cartons bearing labels from cage free to organic to free range. When she picked up a carton of cage-free eggs, my heart sank a little.

Nope, I realized, she doesn’t know either. And so I committed to finishing this egg post to share what I know about finding, buying and eating good eggs.

Why Eggs Matter Now

Maybe you’ve noticed that the egg industry is undergoing a quiet revolution. We’re eating more eggs now than in the past 30 years—263 eggs per person in 2014, according to The Washington Post.

The story I’ve been following involves major policy changes and the 200-plus big businesses that have committed to transition to cage-free eggs by 2025. While Big Ag policy stuff is a big yawn most of the time, this change is already sweeping the country and changing the egg market for the better.

The shift to cage-free and the popularity of organics are two reasons why there are more choices on the market than ever—which makes buying eggs so confusing.

But here’s the uplifting takeaway: change is coming from the bottom, not the top. Consumer buying habits and concerns about the treatment of animals are the main driving force behind changes in egg production methods that affect the hens, the lands, the farmers and local economies as well.

It’s you. It’s me. It’s all of us shifting eggs away from the grip of factory farming because we want better lives for animals, better foods for our families and more corporate responsibility (read: honesty).

All Fresh Eggs Are Not Alike

You probably already know this if you have been lucky enough to taste a local egg. It’s hard to go back to store bought. But this winter, despite foraging far and wide, there were no local eggs to be found.

So, I had to make choices from the egg section at the grocery store.

Buying eggs is about the chicken and the egg. The difference of each type of egg carton—from cage-free to organic to pastured—is an indication of the chicken’s lifestyle, the nutrition and the flavors of each egg.

(There has been little research on the effects of pasture on egg flavors and the one study I found claimed there was no difference. C’mon! We’re just going to have to chalk up the question of egg taste to subjectivity and personal preference.)

But unfortunately, it’s not the whole story, and you have to dig deeper to get a truly good egg.

What about all of those labels festooning the cartons?

They are more confusing than helpful, in most cases. While there are a lot of egg label guides, I find most of them a little hard to decode, so I recommend downloading Animal Welfare Institute’s pocket guide. Or to find out how the organic eggs you already buy rate, scan this scorecard from the watchdog food group Cornucopia Institute.

Don't Be Fooled By Cage-Free Eggs

Here’s the deal: all eggs are going cage free. This means that millions of laying hens will no longer be confined to battery cages the size of an 8 1/2 by 11-inch sheet of paper.

While it’s a major step in the right direction for animal welfare, it’s a little more complicated than that, as this Mother Jones article reports. In short, these debeaked chickens are still confined to multistory laying facilities called aviaries where the conditions are crowded, air quality is questionable and the pecking order causes higher mortality rates.

Cage-free is not a compassionate eater’s dream, in other words. Cage free also has no bearing on the nutrition, quality and taste of the egg for you.

Why not?

The chicken feed is the same as for caged hens. Plus, while they can at least flap their wings and lay down, they do not get outdoors where they exercise and get sunlight while ranging for insects and other tasty items that diversify their nutritional intake.

Other Egg Labels and Seals 

Organic is pretty much about the feed, that’s it. So while organic eggs will be antibiotic and GMO-free, they will not necessarily come from hens who had any genuine access to the outdoors. In fact, the biggest producers of organic eggs operate giant multi-story hen houses called aviaries and they dominate the organic egg industry.

Chances are high that the organic eggs you buy come from an industrial egg producer. (This January, I reported how the organic rules were all set to change to disallow aviaries with no true outdoor access from qualifying as organic eggs. But that all went away.)

Free-range sounds good, but it doesn’t mean anything at all without any other verification to back it up. It is simply an alluring marketing claim that producers can slap on an egg carton at will.

Same goes for pasture raised, an unregulated term, so be on alert for false advertising.

Here are all the other labels that do not have any bearing on chickens’ quality of life or the nutritional quality or flavor of their eggs:

• farm fresh
• natural/all-natural
• free roaming
• sustainably farmed
• vegetarian fed
• hormone free

Stand-alone labels like these are just there to fool you. So just go ahead and ignore all of these meaningless claims from now on, okay?

Animal Welfare Certifications

These seals—or stamps of approval—on egg cartons do mean something. Called third-party certifications, they verify that the marketing claims are true. So, for example, if the label says pasture-raised or free-range and its paired with the logo from Animal Welfare Approved, this is the gold standard.

You can trust that an independent auditor made sure that the hens truly do live on pasture except for when their health or safety is at risk.

Certified Human (less stringent than AWA) and American Humane (less stringent yet) are two more third-party certifiers for eggs.

Yes, it is mind boggling. And yet necessary in a world where we have commoditized living creatures for profit.

But here’s where anyone can make a real difference…

(Read the rest of the article here and find out why pasture-raised eggs are nutritionally better, the four best types of eggs to buy and where to buy them!)

Small photos of egg cartons, cracked eggs and farm stand by Lynne Curry.

Scrambled Eggs, Meet Chilaquiles

When it comes to eggs, scrambling has been my technique of choice since I was a kid. On Saturday mornings my two brothers and I would watch cartoons as our parents slept upstairs, laying on the floor with our noses practically touching the screen in a position my mother said "will ruin your eyes." At a certain point we'd break for breakfast, my brothers hauling out plastic bowls, milk and boxes of cereals with names like Cocoa Puffs, Frosted Flakes and Sugar Crisp.

I don't know what was wrong with me, but I wasn't enamored with the cereals I considered "too sweet," preferring instead those with less (but by no means without) sugar like Wheaties and Grape Nuts. I even had a flirtation with various shredded wheat varieties, but that soured when it became too much like eating a bowl of twigs.

My mother's cast iron skillet.

At some point in elementary school I was old enough to be allowed to use our electric stove without supervision, and I started making scrambled eggs in my mother's small, well-seasoned 8" cast iron skillet which sits in my kitchen to this day. It took practice, but I learned to manage the heat and not burn the butter and to crack the eggs without getting bits of shell in the mix—biting down on a shell in a creamy mound of scrambled eggs still sets my teeth on edge—as well as figuring out how much to stir them to give them that not-too-curdy, not-too-dry creaminess.

I continue to make them to this day, though I've varied the original butter-egg-milk-salt mixture of my childhood to a butter-egg-salt-sprinkling of cheddar combination that suits my current tastes. Dave has mastered the omelette after watching Julia Child's technique on our collection of French Chef DVDs, and I've grown fascinated with one Mexican version, chilaquiles (pron. chee-lah-KEY-lays) that includes chopped tortillas, tomatoes and onions.

Beautiful tortillas from Three Sisters Nixtamal.

Sainted researcher and chronicler of Mexican cuisine, Diana Kennedy, has a superb version of chilaquiles in her The Tortilla Book that we like to make with corn tortillas; flour tortillas make them too doughy. And, fortunately, the best tortillas I've had lately, from Portland-based Three Sisters Nixtamal, are now available in local stores.

Made with organic corn, the dried kernels are combined with lime and water in a process called "nixtamalization" that causes the kernels to swell and enriches the nutrients in the corn. The kernels are then washed, drained, ground and combined with water and salt to make masa dough, which is then pressed into tortillas. I can't recommend them highly enough, and they add a deep, authentic flavor to the chilaquiles.

For a devoted scrambled egg fan like me, these not only make a stunning addition to the weekend breakfast repertoire, but would even make a great dinner paired with simmered black beans and a green salad.

Mexican Scrambled Eggs with Totopos
Adapted from The Tortilla Book by Diana Kennedy

Peanut or safflower oil
6 tortillas, each cut into six wedges
1/2 medium onion, chopped fine
1 large tomato, chopped into dice
4-6 chiles serranos, seeded and minced (we use 2 chiles, or one large ancho chile)
6 large eggs, beaten
1/2 tsp. salt or to taste

In a frying pan over medium-high heat, pour in the oil to depth of 1/4" and heat until it shimmers. Add half the tortilla pieces and fry until they are hard but not browned. Drain on a paper towel and fry the remaining tortilla pieces. Keep warm in a low oven while preparing the other ingredients.

Drain the tortilla frying oil from the skillet and add 3 Tbsp. fresh oil. Heat oil over medium-high flame until it shimmers, then add onion, tomato and chiles. Cook until tender, about 5 minutes. Add the beaten eggs, salt and tortilla pieces to the skillet and cook, stirring gently, until the eggs are set but not too dry. Adjust salt to taste and serve.

Try It: Salt-Cured Egg Yolks

Sometimes I see a recipe that's so unusual it begs to be made. It's usually simple—I'm not the kind of ambitious cook who loves devoting hours of labor to a project—and the fewer the ingredients, the better. Throw in low risk, and I'm in!

Egg yolks after curing.

So when I read my friend Hank Shaw's description of curing egg yolks in salt, I was intrigued. Two ingredients, egg yolks and salt. And time: a couple of weeks.

And voilà…two small, moderately hard, slightly gummy pucks that, when grated, taste like salty, eggy parmesan, only richer. Unctuous aged cheese, if you will. And if you're using eggs from pasture-raised chickens—a trip to the farmers' market should be enough—the color from those tangerine-tinted yolks is going to be brighter than marigolds in the sun.

Sprinkled over beet risotto (recipe).

Hank says they'll keep for a year wrapped in cheesecloth in a sealed plastic container, so next time I'll make a half-dozen. Grated, the two yolks I cured came to about half a cup, enough to sprinkle over four servings of risotto (right), a pound of pasta or a good-sized Caesar salad. All of which I'm planning on trying very soon.

Here's my recipe for the beet risotto pictured above right.

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.

Thai-Style Eggs with a Country Twang

The complex flavors of Thai cuisine are intoxicating, the perfect combination of salty, sweet, sour and bitter, with a big hunk of umami thrown in. I'm also a lifelong egg fiend, having perfected scrambled eggs when I was around eight, so Real Good Food contributor Jim Dixon's recipe for a Thai-style omelet topped by country gravy was a must-try. See what you think.

I was watching the Sriracha documentary last week, and in one short segment a cook pours beaten eggs into a hot wok. The eggs puff up dramatically and get nicely browned. The next morning I started experimenting. I beat two eggs with a little water, figuring the steam created would help the omelet get puffy. I heated a nice slick of extra virgin olive oil in one of my smallest cast iron skillets, dropped a tiny bit of the egg into the oil as a test (this was in the movie), and poured in the eggs. The omelet immediately bubbled up, threatening to spill from the skillet. But it didn't, and I was able to flip it over, finish cooking, and eat it for breakfast.

After my first attempt, I did a little googling. Recipes for Thai omelettes (called Khai Jiao) are everywhere and, like a lot of traditional foods, opinions vary. Some call for added cornstarch or rice flour, some insist on ground pork, others add lime juice or vinegar, but all agree that fish sauce is essential. Since I liked my first one, I keep it simple by just adding the fish sauce. Here's my version.

Puffy Thai-style Omelet with Fish Sauce and Country Gravy

Beat an egg (a single egg makes a six inch omelette that's easy to turn) with about a teaspoon of water and a few shakes of good fish sauce (preferably Red Boat). Use enough olive oil to cover the bottom of a smallish skillet or wok, and heat it over medium high for a minute or two. You want it very hot but not quite smoking. Drop a tiny bit of the egg mixture into the oil; if it sizzles and bubbles up, it's ready, and you can pour in the rest.

The egg will quickly puff up around the edges. Let it cook for about a minute; when the center is nearly set, use a pair a spatulas to flip it over. Let it cook another 30 seconds or so, then slide the omelet onto a plate. Sprinkle with salt, add your favorite hot sauce, or bring a little of the Deep South to SE Asia and top the omelet with country gravy.

To make country gravy (aka milk or sausage gravy), cook a half pound of ground pork in a cast iron skillet, breaking it up with a spatula as it cooks. Add a few tablespoons of flour and cook for a few minutes to get rid of the raw flour taste. Stir in about a cup of whole milk (a splash of cream, creme fraiche, or half-and-half won't hurt) and let the gravy come to a boil. Turn down the heat and let it cook for a few more minutes, then add salt and a lot of freshly ground black pepper. Spoon some over your omelet, or almost anything.

Dinner Desperation Turns into Dinner Delight

In a rare occurence, I knew what we were going to have for dinner. I was going to make one of our go-to favorite dinners, pasta alla carbonara, with some of Dave's freshly made bacon. It's simple matter of boiling water (duh!) frying bacon, stirring up some eggs and a little parmesan, then mixing it all together with whatever pasta was on hand.

And that's where dinner took a sudden left-hand turn.

There was no pasta. I looked around for someone, or something, to blame. Had our son sneaked in a midnight snack with the last box of penne? Had one of the dogs dragged off a package and buried it under the couch cushions? Maybe the cat…but then I remembered I'd made a mental note to write "pasta" on the grocery list but was momentarily, and apparently permanently, distracted by who-knows-what (A glass of wine? A clump of dog hair? A shiny object?) on my way to write it down.

A quick trip to the store crossed my mind, but the grumbling of the family's stomachs made it clear that sooner was going to be preferable to later. So I punted. I turned off the pot of pasta water, grabbed half an onion, chopped it quickly then did a speedy sauté in a sauce pan, added rice, then started ladeling in stock until the rice was just past crunchy.

The idea was to roughly replicate a dish we used to make with rice that called for cooking the rice with onion and stock, then stirring in eggs when the rice was nearly cooked to make a soft, fluffy mass reminiscent of cheesy grits or risotto or…well, dinner.

After stirring in the garlic and bacon, adding the eggs and stirring some more, what came out might not have been our beloved carbonara, but something different and actually worth playing around with some more. Maybe some spring peas, or blanched asparagus pieces? A sprinkling of garden herbs? I'll keep you posted.

Risotto alla Carbonara

1/2 lb. bacon, sliced in 1/4" strips
1 Tbsp. garlic
1/4 c. white wine or dry vermouth
2 whole eggs
2 egg yolks
1/2 c. parmesan, finely grated, plus more for sprinkling at the table
1/2 onion, chopped fine
3 Tbsp. olive oil, or a combination of butter and oil
2 c. arborio or other short-grained white rice
5 c. chicken stock

Fry bacon strips in frying pan until fat is rendered but the bacon is still tender. Add garlic and wine and bring to a brief boil. Remove from heat.

In a small mixing bowl, combine eggs, egg whites and parmesan. Set aside.

In large saucepan melt oil and butter over medium heat. Add onion and sauté till it is translucent. Add rice and sauté briefly, 1-2 min. Add stock one ladel-full at a time, stirring regularly, until rice is al dente, just past the crunchy stage. Remove from heat and add bacon mixture, stirring thoroughly, then the egg mixture. Adjust salt to taste and serve.

Warning: These Eggs Will Spoil You

There's a closely held secret that local food advocates aren't telling you, and I feel it's my bounden duty to bust that secret wide open.

It's something that most Oregonians sense in the spring, that yearning that comes when the first buds start popping out on the trees and the first baby greens begin appearing on farmers' tables at the markets. It's that tickle of excitement we feel when we think about the strawberries that will soon be debuting onstage, giving way to an avalanche of fruit and summer produce that make cooking and eating such a joy in the Northwest.

The secret, then?

It's that once you've tasted a Hood strawberry or a green spear of asparagus grown just miles away or an egg plucked from under a hen a few hours before, you can't ever be truly satisfied with anything else. It's both a blessing, in that you've had the pleasure of strawberry juice running down your chin while driving home from the market with a full flat—nobody will notice just one missing, will they?—and a curse, because all the other strawberries flashing their big ruby smiles at you in the supermarket aisle will be a disappointment when you bite into them and the insides are dry and white.

It's the same way I pine for the tangerine-colored yolks of pasture-raised chicken eggs from the farm when I'm standing in front of the brightly lit egg case at the store, knowing that when I crack the store-bought versions into the pan, they'll be pale and flaccid in comparison. It's why I'm overjoyed when a farmer friend's "girls" start laying their richly flavored, unctuous treasures again in the spring.

So be aware that when you bring home those prizes from the fields to your families, my friends, you might find yourself cursing when a less-than-local or not-so-seasonal version doesn't measure up. You might just get spoiled. I know I have been. (Darn it!)

And if you want to use those heavenly fresh eggs for deviling or in potato salad, but have despaired because they're nearly impossible to peel, read this post where I reveal my secret for easy-to-peel hard-boiled fresh eggs. Works like a dream!

Easy-Peel Farm Fresh Hard-Boiled Eggs…Really!

With Easter weekend coming up and farm-fresh eggs rolling into farmers' markets this weekend, the idea of dyeing some incredibly delicious, plucked-from-the-nest eggs for that Easter egg hunt sounds like a great idea, doesn't it?

But wait, you think, aren't fresh eggs unbelievably hard to peel without half the white sticking to the shells?

Peeling hard-boiled fresh eggs can be easy!

The answer is that they can be if you try to cook fresh eggs as you would the regular ones from the store, which might be as much as a month old. But if you take advantage of the technique I picked up a couple of years ago that make the shells practically fall off in your hands, you'll have incredibly beautiful, pristine eggs to use for post-Easter deviled eggs or for shredding on tender spears of blanched asparagus.

Seriously, give this technique a try…you won't have to be embarrassed at serving tasteless, conventionally grown hard-boiled eggs again!

Hard-Boiled Fresh Eggs

1. Make sure your eggs are at room temperature (very important!). This will reduce cracking when submerging them in boiling water.
2. Bring a pot of water to boil over high heat.
3. Slowly lower the eggs into the boiling water.
4. When boiling resumes, set timer for 15 minutes and reduce heat to keep water at a low boil.
5. When timer goes off, drain eggs and submerge in ice bath until chilled, then peel.

Get my recipes for Spanish-style Deviled Eggs and Curried Mustard Deviled Eggs.

Breakfast for Dinner: Craving Spring Things

Let's face it: Spring is all about sex. Call it reproduction, fertility or, to use Anthony Boutard's favorite word, fecundity, nature is having a field day making more of itself. Hens start laying eggs again, little green things (weeds included) are popping out of the bare earth and farmers are finally able to get out in their fields to plant crops, muddy and clumpy though those fields may be.

Chorizo and spring vegetables…yum!

I've been longing for spring things lately, especially after a winter diet of root vegetables and winter greens, and my freezer is looking mighty empty since we've cleaned out most of the roasted tomatoes, lamb, pork and beef I crammed into it last fall. Luckily the farmers' market season is roaring back to life now, so it's easy to satisfy my craving for these first sweet sproutings.

Homemade sourdough cubes, natch!

With that in mind, a recent article by David Tanis in the Dining section of the New York Times about a Spanish dish of eggs and spring vegetables piqued my interest. Called revueltos or huevos revueltos, it basically means scrambled eggs and usually includes vegetables of one sort or another. Often found at tapas bars or served as a light supper dish—my fondness for these "breakfast for dinner" dishes is longstanding—the one that Tanis shared featured asparagus and bread cubes toasted in olive oil and garlic.

I happened to have picked up a couple of bunches of asparagus at the mid-week Shemanski market from Leslie at Viridian Farms, and had about half a bunch of green garlic left over from an earlier trip. Dinner was still an open question and I'd just replenished the egg supply, so I decided to follow the seeming synchronicity and give the dish a whirl.

Needless to say, and anyone who's made a frittata, quiche or even an omelet can attest, it was simple, quick and delicious. Perfect for a spring supper!

Revueltos (Scrambled Eggs) with Green Garlic and Asparagus

Adapted from David Tanis

Olive oil

2 peeled garlic cloves

2 c. dried bread cubes, cut in 1/2" cubes

3 oz. diced Spanish chorizo*

1 bunch asparagus, about 1 1/2 lbs., sliced in 1" lengths

1/2 bunch green garlic, sliced in 1" lengths

8 large eggs, beaten

1/2 tsp. Spanish pimentón (smoked paprika)

Salt to taste

Heat 3 tablespoons olive oil in a large non-stick skillet (or well-seasoned cast iron pan) over medium-high heat. Add peeled garlic cloves and let them sizzle until lightly browned, then remove. Add bread cubes, lower heat to medium and gently fry until lightly browned and crisp, about 2 minutes. Remove bread and set aside to cool.

Add chorizo and fry lightly. Add asparagus and green garlic and stir-fry until cooked through but firm, 3 to 4 minutes. 

Reduce heat to low. Add pimentón to eggs. Pour eggs into skillet with vegetables and cook, stirring with a wooden spoon, just until soft and creamy, 2 to 3 minutes. Top with bread cubes and serve in the skillet, or transfer eggs to large serving bowl, topping with bread cubes, and serve immediately.

This would also make a great breakfast or brunch dish.

* I used my friend Paul Bertolli's Fra'Mani Chorizo Pork Sausage.

These Eggs are Ready for Easter!

My friend Kim has a flock of around 40 pastured hens on her property in Happy Valley, a diverse collection of heritage breeds like Ameraucanas, Wyandottes, Buff Orpingtons, among others. The variety and diversity shows in the magnificent color of the eggs she collects each morning, don't you think?

Shakshuka: Don't Call It Breakfast

Thank heavens for NPR. All these years I've been covering up a dirty secret, carefully glossing over what seemed to be a major character flaw, and now our very own Deena Prichep, writer, producer and radio personality extraordinaire (Hey, she's talked with all my crushes at NPR…that qualifies!), has absolved my shame.

And that is…oh god, it's so hard to type this…I will, on occasion, make breakfast for dinner.

The ragu.

There, I've said it. Breakfast for dinner. Usually involving eggs, but occasionally pancakes or, heaven help me, waffles. Yes, waffles.

Whew…I feel so much better! Like a heavy burden has been lifted, like my life doesn't need to spiral into embarrassment and recrimination every evening when the light starts fading and I look up from Facebook and realize Dave's going to be home in 30 minutes and I don't have a gorgeous roast chicken or braised meat to set on the table.

Dinner is served.

Panic mode! But then I relax because, as anyone who indulges in this practice knows, breakfast items like the ones Deena writes about—chilaquiles, waffles, omelets and pancakes—can be easily whipped up in less than an hour.

One example from just the other night is shakshuka, a dish of eggs poached in a vegetable ragu. Flexible as far as required ingredients go, it's a great way to clean out the vegetable bin of those bits and bobs that didn't quite make it into other meals and might not make it to the next day (you know what I'm talking about here…).

So free yourself from your chains, grab the egg carton out of the fridge and declare your liberation. Let me hear a "Hallelujah!"

Shakshuka

2 Tbsp. vegetable oil
1 onion, halved and sliced crosswise into 1/8" slices
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 red bell pepper, sliced into thin strips
2 c. crushed tomatoes
1 small bunch kale, about 3 cups, sliced into thin strips
2 tsp. smoked paprika (I used piquante, or slightly spicy, but mild dulce is fine, too.)
1 tsp. cumin
Salt, to taste
6 eggs
Chevre (optional)
Crusty bread (optional)

In large skillet (I used a large cast iron skillet, but any kind will do), heat the oil over medium-high heat until it shimmers. Add the onions and sauté till tender. Add garlic, bell pepper and spices and continue sautéing. When peppers are tender, add tomatoes and bring to a simmer over low heat. Stir in the kale and allow it to cook down into the ragu, about 15 to 20 minutes.

At this point, if the shame is too much, you could always just cook up a pot of pasta and mix the ragu into it, but I'd encourage you to go for broke:

Make six slight indentations in the vegetables and crack an egg into each one (the indentations help to cup the egg and keep it from running all over the surface). Cover and cook until the whites of the eggs are cooked but the yolks are still soft. (The yolks will have a slightly translucent white film when they're done, but watch so you can catch them just as the film appears.) Serve in the skillet or plate by taking a scoop of eggs and ragu, then top with a dollop of chevre, if desired. Slices of crusty bread are encouraged for sopping.

Varying the Morning Routine

Like contributor Jim Dixon of Real Good Food, I have a morning routine…dogs, coffee, breakfast. Recently he decided to do something little different for the breakfast portion.

I eat the same breakfast most days. I make an espresso in my Francis Francis machine with Andrea Spella’s amazing coffee, pour a glass of OJ (I switched to the relatively spendy Columbia Gorge Organics stuff a few years ago after reading about “flavor packs”) and spread some old-school Adam’s crunchy peanut butter on a couple of slices of toast (preferably Great Harvest’s Dakota bread).

But I do like some eggs every now and then. Usually I just fry them over easy in extra virgin olive oil, but I last week I had some leftover cooked bacon and was thinking about Judy Rodgers' breadcrumb eggs. This is what happened next.

Eggs with Toast and Bacon

I think everybody should have breadcrumbs in the pantry all the time, and if you take the last couple of slices from that loaf getting stale, leave them out on the counter until they’re totally dry and grind them in your food processor, you’ll be on your way to having your own stash.

Gently heat some olive oil in a skillet, add a tablespoon of breadcrumbs for each egg and let them brown. Chop a slice or two of cooked bacon into fairly small, breadcrumbish-sized bits and add to the pan. When they start to sizzle, scrape the crumbs and bacon into rough circles and break the eggs onto them.

You can do the eggs sunny side up, but I like mine over easy. Cook 'em how you like 'em, hopefully with runny yolks, and eat.

Photo from Culinate.com.

My New Superpower: Hard-boiling Fresh Eggs!

cognitive dissonance: the discomfort experienced when simultaneously holding two or more conflicting cognitions: ideas, beliefs, values or emotional reactions. In a state of dissonance, people may sometimes feel "disequilibrium": frustration, hunger, dread, guilt, anger, embarrassment, anxiety, etc.

This is the perfect definition of my state at this time of year, though my situation is probably not what psychologists were considering when they came up with the term. To wit: I love farm fresh eggs, whether purchased at the farmers' market or my favorite independent farmer, with their pastel green, beige, brown, dark brown or even bronze shades and variously speckled or, as my 3-year-old nephew says, "sparkly" shells. (I let him pick out his own eggs for scrambling—he always chooses the sparkliest.)

The problem comes when I need to hard-boil them for potato salad or, worst, for deviled eggs where the solid whites need to be pristine holders for the fluff of yolk that sits in their convex cups. The magic of the preparation dims substantially if the whites look more like 4-wheel-drive tire treads, and I've struggled with various techniques to make these fresh eggs easier to peel. I've even gone so far as to buy store-bought eggs in a desperate moment, knowing that they're likely at least a month old and the membrane surrounding the white has started to break down, releasing its sticky hold on the shell.

Some research gave me a new, and even deadly, superpower. With it I can now hard boil the freshest of fresh eggs and they'll peel like a dream, practically falling off the egg with the slightest of tugs. I'm sharing it with you so that your summer can be full of the loveliness of those dreamy yolks and pristine whites. But, like all superpowers, you must promise to use it only for good.

Hard-Boiled Fresh Eggs

1. Make sure your eggs are at room temperature. This will reduce cracking when submerging them in boiling water.
2. Bring a pot of water to boil over high heat.
3. Slowly lower the eggs into the boiling water.
4. When boiling resumes, set timer for 15 min. and reduce heat to keep at a low boil.
5. When timer goes off, drain eggs and submerge in ice bath until chilled, then peel.

Get my recipes for Spanish-style Deviled Eggs and Curried Mustard Deviled Eggs.

Brainwashed By Big Ag: Dirty Eggs

Introducing a new series I could also call, "I Can't Believe You Just Said That." Please feel free to share your own stories, either by e-mail or in the comments below. They might just become future installments!

My friend Kim told me that recently she had a houseguest who refused to eat the eggs from Kim's pasture-raised, grass-fed chickens. That was because the houseguest only eats white eggs.

Her reason? "Brown eggs are dirty."

The "L" Word: Chilaquiles For Everyone!

I buy corn tortillas in the big stacks at the grocery store, in the packages that proudly declare "5 Dozen." I get home, throw them in the freezer, and when we have tacos or tostadas or pork posole verde, I make sure to peel off a couple more than I think we'll need for dinner. That's because I have a secret agenda for these leftovers for the next morning, a breakfast treat for myself that takes maybe five minutes to make but makes me clap my hands in anticipation of its gloriousness.

With eggs like these, who needs to dye them?

I first had chilaquiles (pron. chee-lah-KEE-lays) on our very first trip to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. Our beachside hotel had a breakfast bar and I wandered down the line, taking a little of this, a little of that and a lot of fresh fruit. One of the warming trays had a combination of scrambled eggs and tortillas, jalapeños and tomatoes that was so good I was pushing aside the papayas to pile more on my plate.

Since then we've had them for brunch and dinner, just for us and for a crowd, with bell peppers and tomatoes chopped in or simply plain (top photo) with salsa on the side, and they never fail to satisfy. So next time you've got tortillas left over, make sure to save a couple for your own secret breakfast treat.

Chilaquiles

This is for one secret breakfast, but it's easy to up-size for a crowd. And feel free to sauté a mix of peppers, garlic, onions, tomatoes or whatever strikes your fancy after you've fried the tortillas, then add the eggs and scramble.

1 Tbsp. butter
1 corn tortilla, halved, then cut in 1/2" strips
2 eggs
1 Tbsp. cheddar cheese, grated
Salt to taste
Salsa

Heat pan over medium heat and add butter. When foam subsides, lower heat and add tortilla strips, frying briefly on each side to brown. Remove from heat, add eggs, cheese and salt and combine. Return to heat and scramble until the eggs are done (I like mine very soft). Serve with salsa on top or mixed in…it's your secret breakfast, so make it your way!

The "L" Word: Clearing the Fridge

The other night I was totally stuck for something to make for dinner and didn't want to make a trip to the store. We had lots of odds and ends of leftovers (the "L" word around here) in the fridge, like a bit of roasted chicken that needed to be used, about three halves of various peppers that Dave had roasted on the grill the night before, four mushrooms and a half bunch of green onions that were looking a little sad.

There were also some garlic scapes a friend had given us from her garden, six baby Yukon Gold potatoes, a bag of greens from our own garden and several dozen eggs that had multiplied due to generous friends.

It was the eggs that finally made the lightbulb pop on. Since there weren't enough potatoes to make hash and I wanted to use up about a dozen eggs, the idea of a frittata seemed like the perfect solution. So I chopped up the veggies and threw them in our big nonstick skillet. When they'd cooked down to a tender pile, I threw those dozen or so eggs in a bowl, whisked them briefly and dumped them in the pan to seep into the hot vegetables.

While the frittata cooked, I rinsed and dried the greens and tossed them with my favorite dressing of olive oil and aged balsamic. When the eggs were mostly firm, all it took was a sprinkling of cheese, a brief visit under the broiler and dinner was ready.

Oh, and that roasted chicken? I'm having a curried chicken salad on the leftover greens for lunch as I write this.

Fridge Frittata

As mentioned above, this can be made from whatever vegetables or meats you happen to have on hand, sautéed and combined with eggs. Quick and easy, forgiving and always delicious, it's almost the perfect meal!

2 Tbsp. butter, margarine or olive oil
1/2 each green, red and ancho peppers, or about a heaping cup finely chopped
4 green onions, sliced into 1/8" slivers
4-6 mushrooms, halved and sliced thinly
5 garlic scapes, sliced in 1" pieces, leaving the bulbs intact
6 baby Yukon Gold potatoes (or the equivalent of 1 whole, chopped in 1/4" cubes)
12-14 eggs
1/2 c. cheese, grated
Salt and pepper to taste

Melt the butter over medium heat until it sizzles. Add potatoes and sauté briefly till slightly tender. Add rest of vegetables and sauté until very tender. While vegetables are cooking, break eggs into a mixing bowl and stir until well-mixed, adding salt to taste. When vegetables are done, pour the eggs over the top, sprinkle on the cheese and cover the pan, reducing the heat to low.

When the eggs are cooked on the bottom and still runny on top, put the pan under the broiler briefly (don't walk away or get distracted like I sometimes do!). When eggs are lightly browned on top, remove the pan from the broiler.

To serve, run a spatula around the inside of the skillet to loosen the eggs. Then invert a serving platter over the skillet and, holding them firmly together, turn the platter and skillet upside down. The frittata should plop out of the skillet onto the platter.