Recently I went with a couple of my watercolor class friends to a Thai restaurant for lunch. I enjoyed my lunch so much I decided to try to recreate it at home. My entrée was a special that day, a creamy (coconut milk-based) sauce with fresh pumpkin cubes and shrimp. It had enough of the sauce/gravy to serve over a bed of rice. It was absolutely out of this world fabulous. I tried to close my eyes and analyze the flavors floating around in my mouth. I hoped it wouldn’t be too difficult to figure out how to make it.

Seeing sugar pie pumpkins at the market reminded me I wanted to try to prepare the dish. I did sleuth on the internet for a recipe, and found one that was similar, but different. I decided to make mine a soup without rice rather than the shrimp entrée sauce over rice I’d had at the restaurant. Since there were already carbs in the dish (the pumpkin) I thought it would be healthier for us anyway. The internet recipe called for shrimp paste (I used a fish soup base) and dried shrimp (I didn’t have them, nor did I buy it). It called for “green chiles,” so I used one Poblano (probably not traditionally Thai, but it was what I had) and one jalapeno. It had a perfect degree of heat for my taste. This other recipe called for basil. I used spinach instead. So I really changed the recipe all around, different proportions of most things and added ingredients plus deleted others.

The seafood soup base I bought from Penzey’s. You’ve read about them here before – their soup bases are just the greatest. I’m generous with how much I use. They don’t keep forever anyway. I’ve had my three jars for about 5 months now and they’re still just fine (stored in the refrigerator).

As I was making the soup I kept tasting the broth. Finally, after I added a jar of Thai red curry sauce I was pleased. The sauce came from Trader Joe’s, but I believe there are other brands out there . . . just seek them out. I purchased frozen already-cooked extra-large shrimp which got added to the soup at the very end. They slow-simmered just long enough to defrost and heat through. The coconut milk gets added at the very last also because it does not like to be boiled. I added the spinach and merely stirred it into the soup minutes before serving. The flavor comes from all the other stuff you put into the broth, though. The garlic, shallots, lemongrass (I used a paste from a tube since I can’t always find fresh lemongrass in my markets), the chiles, Thai fish sauce, and the soup base. There’s also just a tad of sugar in this. The soup is quite versatile – you could easily change the ingredients to ones of your choice. Don’t like pumpkin? Use butternut squash. Don’t like shrimp? Use chicken. Don’t like coconut milk? Use regular cow’s milk or soy (although the flavor will be really different). Don’t like chiles? Add green or red bell pepper instead. But, if you enjoy Thai flavors, this is one fantastic soup. My DH thought it was wonderful too.
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Have you ever given much thought to what it must have been like as a pioneer woman? Maybe not the kind who could whip up a pumpkin pie after a day in the covered wagon traversing Kansas, but the kind who lived in New England during the early days of our country’s history? The kind of pioneer woman who had to build a fire first, keep it stoked, make and mend clothes, be capable of shooting a coyote who got too close to the chicken coop, perhaps feed all the farm animals in between doing laundry in a big huge cauldron outside the cabin? The kind of pioneer woman who had to make large meals every day, day in and day out, three times a day, often needing to feed not only the family, but also the farmhands. The kind who made biscuits, eggs, bacon, fresh bread, pancakes, stews, soups, and everything in between every single day. Who didn’t have a refrigerator to store leftovers. The kind of pioneer woman who didn’t have much cinnamon in her pantry (because it was precious and expensive), who had to harvest, cut and peel every bit of pumpkin she ever used in cooking? The kind of pioneer woman who didn’t ever go to a cooking class to learn how to use yeast. Or how to butcher a steer. It had to have been grueling work, being a pioneer housewife. And she did it in long-sleeved, full-length dresses and layers of undergarments. Because that’s just the way it was. I envy her not. Me with my ipod, double oven, bread machine, crockpot, washing machine, cell phone and two refrigerators and freezers. Well, you get my drift. My hat is off to those women who met the challenge, all for love and/or family.

Seems like I remember reading that the Native Americans taught the European settlers how to grow and harvest pumpkin because they’d never seen such things before. (The picture at the right is the sugar pumpkin I used for a soup – not for the pumpkin pie.) I’ve probably mentioned it here before that I’m a huge fan of pumpkin. Pumpkin pie is my favorite pie, bar none. And I have to talk to myself (you know, self talk in my head) about not making it more than once or twice a year. Because I can eat plenty of pumpkin pie if it’s around. My dad also adored pumpkin pie. It was his favorite as well. It’s also our son’s favorite pie, and he considers the hostess (whether it’s his wife, me, or any other hostess) stingy if he doesn’t get a whole pie all to himself on Thanksgiving. He laughs and cajoles, pleads and begs, tells the women in his life what wonderful cooks they are, just so he can have his whole pie. As a teenager he literally ate a whole pie on Thanksgiving Day. And wanted more the next morning for breakfast. I think his wife has weaned him down to one whole pie. Period.

Generally we celebrate Thanksgiving out at our desert house. We have a 3-bedroom house there, and if all three of our kids and their families come to visit it’s spillover time with people and children sleeping all over. But there’s lots to do. Entertainment for the kids. A big pool next door. A golf cart to ride around in, just to check out the pathways around the two 18-hole golf courses. And with just a single refrigerator my kitchen there is taxed to the max storing all the food and stuff to serve a big dinner, and breakfast, and lunches and snacks for thirteen people. So I always want to make pumpkin pie that doesn’t need to be refrigerated. There’s absolutely no room in the frig. Sometimes one of the daughters will make pies (Sara loves to bake, so she often offers). Karen likes to bake too, but with a little toddler she doesn’t have quite so much time these days. I have succumbed to buying pies a couple of times, but I’m never very satisfied. Store-bought pumpkin pie is usually too sweet for me. I’m certain I’ve mentioned here before that I think Thanksgiving dinner is the hardest work of any American holiday. I make my own everything, the stuffing, the brine, the vegetables, the mashed potatoes, cranberry relish, gravy, pie. Everything. In some years I’ve been so exhausted by the time I sat down to dinner I hardly wanted to eat anything. So little of Thanksgiving can be made ahead, either. One year I made Rachel Ray’s apple stuffin’ muffins. They were very good, actually. Last year I made Italian Spicy Sausage Stuffing which was just wonderful. I wrote raves about that dressing last November. I’ll write up a post sometime in the next couple of weeks with a list of my recipes that are suitable for Thanksgiving dinner. And for the leftovers too.Back to pumpkin . . . I was raised on Libby’s recipe off the label on the can. And despite trying many other versions, I generally like Libby’s recipe best. However, the other day I was perusing one of my cookbooks – one that lives out at our desert house. It’s Pumpkin: A Super Food for 12 Months of the Year. I bought it last year. And in it were several pumpkin pie recipes. So as I looked at this one, titled simply “Traditional Pumpkin Pie,” I thought, yea, just a regular pumpkin pie. No different than lots of others. But then I read the intro blurb. The author, DeeDee Stovel wrote “This is the best pie I’ve ever had.” Now, considering that she must be a really great cook, and that she has a successful pumpkin cookbook under her belt, when someone speaks those words, I listen. I looked at the ingredient list . . . nothing all that unusual other than fresh ginger rather than powdered. Hmmm. Different. But then I glanced at the directions. You have to caramelize the pumpkin. Huh? How the heck do you do that with canned pumpkin?

So, there was nothing for it except I had to try it. I don’t think I can last until Thanksgiving to get my first pumpkin pie fix, anyway. So, I bought some of Trader Joe’s ready-to-bake pie crust shells and partially baked one. Blind with pie weights, for 10 minutes just until the shell would hold its shape. Meanwhile I started in on the filling. Well, it was hard to tell when the pumpkin flesh was caramelized, or ready. If it started to brown, then there were little crusty pieces in it. So I reduced the heat and just kept smushing it around the pan until it was a thick, drier mush, rather than a wet mush. It’s a bit difficult to judge, I’d say. There’s about 25% or more of water in canned pumpkin – at least when you get done caramelizing it, instead of a cup, your yield is ¾ of a cup. That gets mixed with all the custard part, the spices (and the freshly grated ginger). But then there’s another twist – you sprinkle 2 T. of sugar and 1 T. of flour (mixed together) over the bottom of the piecrust before you pour in the custard (see photo). My guess is that it keeps the crust from getting soggy. But that certainly is a different technique I’ve not used before.

Cook’s Notes: My verdict? The pie is very good. Maybe more than “very good.” As good as Libby’s? Well, hmmm, I’m not sure. This pie has a lighter, fluffier texture. Libby’s is a more dense pie just redolent with spices. (It’s possible that’s from using Trader Joe’s organic canned pumpkin, though, rather than Libby’s.) This one is more subtle.  But I will tell you, adding that layer of flour and sugar in the bottom of the pie shell protected the bottom shell from getting soggy. That technique absolutely worked! The cinnamon in the whipped cream was also a really nice touch. The pie is light in the spices (I’d probably add more next time), but I liked it. A lot. I also had to bake the pie an additional 12-15 minutes, so maybe the filling really needs 3 eggs instead of 2.
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A rat who obviously didn’t know how to read nevertheless loved books. So he set up house in a library where no one went any longer. He would walk on the books, between them, run along them, contemplate them with a tear in his eye, and his mouth watering. It was his home, he was happy there; these are my books, he said.Occasionally, he’d stop to nibble at a part of one book or another.

–Phew! The new books stink of glue and ink, and their pages are flimsy and damp and stick to the palate.

Instead, he regaled himself with the most ancient pages, the dry and yellowed ones, which were very crunchy, for example his old edition of Diderot’s Encyclopedia; he would always remember the article consecrated to God, which he made quite a feast of.
There’s also a telephone book dating from 1916, full of names of dead people and obsolete addresses which he offers bites from to his buddies when they come to visit him and which they highly prize.

His salon is furnished in paperbacks, colored and pliant. The bathroom is behind the Letters of Madame de Sévigné. An incunable* bound in vellum whose cover is buckling serves as his bed; recently, he had a nightmare in which he was taught to read.

. . . François Hébert, le Dernier Chant de l’avant-dernier dodo (the last song of the next-to-last dodo), printed in The Ravenous Muse, by Karen Elizabeth Gordon

* incunabulum: 1. A book printed before 1501; an incunable. 2. An artifact of an early period.

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All the information here about green beans comes from one of the chapters in Russ Parsons’ book titled How to Pick a Peach.

What I learned:

• That cooks all around continue trying to find ways to keep green beans green. The chemistry involved is interesting: every green vegetable goes through three stages of green: (1) raw, the vegetable is a deep but dull green; (2) in the early stages of cooking the color turns bright and vibrant (this change occurs as the cell walls soften and tiny amounts of oxygen are driven off while other gases cloud the pure color of the chlorophyll); (3) the green turns to olive drab because of a chemical change in the chlorophyll – partly due to an enzymatic action, but mostly due to acids released during cooking.
• Some of the age-old methods for keeping beans green are myths (like using baking soda in the water – – makes the texture slimy, though; cooking in heavily salted water – – no scientific basis that that method works).
• The best method for keeping green beans green is to cook them in plenty of water (so less acids are released to each bean) – quickly – no slow heat-up here – the less time beans are in the water the better – cook just until they’re done to your liking – then plunge them into ice water. [This is the method I’ve used for about 15 or so years, I guess – probably learned it at a cooking class].
• Green beans we buy are actually immature beans – as a legume they grow for the seeds inside, which if left to mature, become nugget sized and the pods will toughen.
• There are two types of green beans – the round (Blue Lake and haricots verts), the more traditional green bean; the flat (like Italian Romano) are more meaty and assertive, and are cooked much longer. They even seem to improve with lengthier cooking.
• Green beans come in a variety of colors. So they really shouldn’t just be called “green” beans. The old term was “string beans,” but the strings were bred out of beans in recent years (except heirloom varieties). A more likely name is “snap beans.” If beans are fresh, they should snap (not just bend) in half.
• You should remove the stem end, but removing the tail-end is not necessary [I always leave them on because they’re very tender and look better].

How to Choose & Store:

Green Beans with Garlic (a real favorite of ours)
Green Beans with Shallots & Balsamic Glaze

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I wrote up this post before we left on our trip in September, and I’ve posted a bunch of stories in the interim. No matter, read on . . . I kid you not, folks. I am in l-o-v-e with Penzey’s Soup Bases. You just won’t believe how flavorful your soups and stews will be when you add just a bit of this to them. And I seem to be riding on the tails of the successful chicken posole I made last a few weeks ago. I must not have made enough of that – I’m craving more. So . . . since I was making dinner for us to take to our local kids and grandson, and decided it was cool enough yesterday (in the 70’s) that it felt almost, sorta, kinda like Fall,  chili and cornbread sounded like the ticket to me. I didn’t want to go buy stuff at the grocery store. Sure enough, I had everything to make this chili.
Researching, I read a recipe on the Food Network (from Ina Garten’s section) and used it as a kind of guideline. This particular version doesn’t have any beans in it, but you could certainly add them. I might add a can of kidney beans, just to give it some dramatic color. It has a bunch of corn in it (I had a plastic bag of Trader Joe’s fire-roasted corn in the freezer) so probably doesn’t need beans.

Frozen chicken breasts I had, canned tomatoes (yep), red bell peppers (yep, two left in the crisper) and onions. Everything else was just icing on the cake – yep, had some cheddar cheese, a little container of sour cream, and some about-to-be-stale tortilla chips. Hooray. No trip to the grocery store!

The chili came together very quickly – really. I made it my own with omission of a few things (basil, yellow bells, cayenne). I had some cute little chile peppers from our garden (the four-legged squirrel and ground critters don’t like chiles, I’ve learned – hooray). They weren’t jalapenos, but something close, so the recipe below indicates jalapenos. You can use your chiles of choice for the heat you’d prefer! And I added my Penzey’s turkey stock concentrate and some chipotle chile in adobo sauce, plus some ancho chili powder. And the corn. Garnishes can be of your own choosing. I used grated cheddar, sour cream, tortilla chips and cilantro. Green onions? Fritos? Jack cheese? Yogurt instead of sour cream? Lots of choices here.
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A few weeks ago I was watching Martha when she had several famous New York chefs on the show. Seems like they all made fish of some kind, and this particular recipe just sounded interesting. Since Fall is in the air, a more hearty meal piqued my curiosity. The recipe is from Chef Daniel Boulud, certainly one of the pre-eminent chefs out there today. His method is more French than anything else. This recipe isn’t for a night when you’re trying to get dinner on the table in a hurry. It would be more appropriate for guests or a special evening at home. I have changed the recipe just a little. Originally it served 6. I cut it down to serve 2 (shown below). I couldn’t find salsify at the market, so I substituted parsnips. I hadn’t fixed celery root in years, but most markets here in California carry it regularly. I love the subtle taste of celery in this root vegetable.

So, here’s the gist of the recipe. First you make the wine and port sauce. It boils down to next to nothing (I actually left the shallot in the sauce, and I forgot to add the peppercorns altogether). Meanwhile, you peel and cube the celery root. Be sure to use a sturdy peeler if you have one. A light-weight one probably couldn’t pull the heavy peel off. Dig out any eyes and remove most of the very dark swirly parts (the part that’s actually the peel) by just peeling an additional layer or two. Cut into cubes and then you poach the root in milk to which you’ve added some seasonings. That takes about 20 minutes. I pureed it in the food processor (the actual recipe has more steps) and didn’t use all the milk, but just about.

The fish is fairly straight forward – you place some fresh sage leaves (from my garden) on the salmon fillets, then top them with one or two slices of bacon. I wanted to use one slice rather than two, but use your own judgment. It will be harder to turn the salmon if you lay the bacon on top (as I did) rather than wrapping two slices around the middle (so the bacon will stick to itself where the ends meet). I actually baked my salmon in the oven, but the done-ness was much harder to judge (it was overcooked, even though I used a thermometer), so I recommend you stick to the recipe below pan sautéing it.

The results: Absolutely delicious. The celery root puree with its moderately subtle celery flavor was a great pairing with the hearty salmon. The SAUCE is what makes it, though. I wish I’d made more. You want to take each bite that includes a bit of the celery root, salmon, bacon and sauce.
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Waiting for the weather to turn Fall-ish seems to take forever here in Southern California. On our recent driving trip we even got up to snow level (in Mt. Lassen), and endured 4 days of rain in Oregon, but as soon as we headed south again it was back into Indian Summer. The air conditioning has been running some hours nearly every day. But, it does cool off at night, thankfully. It’s not warm enough to eat outside in the evening (besides, by the time we eat it’s pitch dark now), and because I’ve been very busy trying to catch up on “things,” I’ve done some quick and easy dinners of late. Whenever the weather turns cool, my mind turns to soup. Soup is probably my most favorite food to cook, believe it or not. I even considered naming my blog something related to soup. But then, I cook a little bit of everything, so that would have been quite misleading and far fewer people would read my blog.

As I was baking Dana’s recent birthday cakes, my granddaughter Taylor asked me what was my favorite thing to cook. When I told her it was soup she gave me a funny look. When she comes to visit us I usually bake with her (cookies, cakes, desserts – I mean, what kid doesn’t love desserts . . . I always hope that one of my grandaughters or grandsons will have an interest in cooking).  So she was a bit mystified, I guess, that I said soup! Her mother (my daughter) doesn’t eat soup. Period. I don’t know where I went wrong there – she doesn’t eat eggs (or breakfast, for that matter), mushrooms or soup. Nor does she drink coffee or tea. Or wine. Or beer for that matter. Oh well. We eat/drink almost all of them. Back to soups . . . I’ve even written up a post about my soup “library” in my freezer – the vertical stack of flattened freezer bags full of soup. Twice this week I’ve pulled out bags from my inventory. I’m getting ready to start firing up the burners for a new season of soups.

I read somebody else’s blog this morning which gave me the idea that maybe some of you haven’t been reading my blog all that long. And maybe you haven’t read some of my older posts about my favorite soups. If you haven’t looked at my RECIPE INDEX, you can always go there and view a list of all of the recipes of all types that I’ve posted since I started my blog.

This soup list below isn’t all-inclusive . . . I’m only telling you about my favorite hot soups. The ones I make year after year after year. The ones I crave. Here you go:

Cabbage Patch Stew –  Kind of a cross between soup and stew. Simple to make and served with a topping of freshly made mashed potatoes. This is one of my all-time favorites because of the combination of hearty soup and the potatoes. Freeze the potatoes separately.

Cream of Tomato Soup –  From a cooking class I took last year up in Sonoma. Oh so much better than Campbell’s. This is the first soup I’ll be making very soon. I crave this soup, especially with a half of a toasted sharp cheddar cheese sandwich made on grainy wheat bread.

Roasted Butternut Squash Soup – a rather complicated fresh butternut squash soup. It also contains onions and apples, all oven roasted before concocting the soup itself. Succulent and a bit sweet. Freezes really well.

Roasted Poblano Asiago Soup –  the recipe I researched after going to Cindy’s Backstreet Kitchen and having a similar soup. I crave this soup too.

Butternut Squash with Ginger & Jalapeno – a completely different soup than the above one – spicy, smooth and quite simple to make.

Tuscan Chicken Soup –  not a chicken soup at all. Very easy soup with ground beef and greens.

Sopa de Calabacitas – a favorite because I just l-o-v-e calabacitas (a Southwestern combo of corn, poblano chiles, onion, zucchini and cilantro). Usually served as a side vegetable, I like the mixture so much I made it into a soup.  

And just because I’m writing up a post about soups, here are two cold soups that are particular favorites too, which I probably won’t be making again until next spring sometime:

Cream of Cucumber Soup –  A cold summer soup from my friend Jackie. I must have made it 5 times over this last summer.

Strawberry Gazpacho –  from a cooking class a couple of years ago. Simply scrumptious. When strawberries come in season in the spring I’ll be making this right away quick.

I created the photo collage from photos in my archive. Once I finished it I realized the top left isn’t soup, it’s salsa. From the tiny thumbnail, it looked like tortilla soup. But the rest are soup photos from my recent cooking.

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Last week was my turn to take desserts to my evening book group. One dessert isn’t enough for our group, so two is about the minimum. I had some cookie dough to make up into cookies, so those went along as well. I also made the applesauce spice cake with caramel icing, since it’s become such a favorite lately. I cut it up to serve about 16, and there were two skinny pieces left. I thought I should round it out with a fruit-type dessert. Apples would have been the obvious seasonal choice, but I had read a recipe recently over at Smitten Kitchen that looked absolutely fabulous. For pears. In a crisp. Yum.

FYI: Our group read The Falling Man by De Lillo. Quite a book. I didn’t particularly like it (a fictional account of a man and the people within his sphere of influence in the aftermath of his escape from the Twin Towers on 9/11). It’s a dark book, but the discussion was very lively as we analyzed the symbolism and the meaning behind some of the characters and their actions. The reviewer did an excellent job focusing our discussion and ferreting out the important details.

Anyway, this pear crisp is absolutely wonderful. If you enjoy fruit crisps, like pears, then this dessert is for you! You can make the topping ahead of time, and I’d think you could make the brown butter a few hours ahead too, if you want to bake this close to serving time (the best). Smitten Kitchen served it with fennel ice cream. Now, you have to be a regular blog reader to know about David Lebovitz (the American who lives in Paris and recently wrote an ice cream cookbook, The Perfect Scoop, the absolute best ice cream cookbook ever). I’ve made several of his ice creams, but knew I didn’t have time to make it for this event; therefore, I served it with vanilla ice cream instead. I wasn’t altogether sure my book group would appreciate the nuances of fennel ice cream anyway. But next time I make this (oh yes, I’ll be making this again and again in years to come) I will make the fennel ice cream. Smitten Kitchen raved about the combination, so that’s good enough for me to put on my to-do list!

The pears (either Anjou or Bartlett) need to be firm-ripe. This is important – too ripe and I’m sure the pears will disintegrate during the baking, and become mealy and granular. Mine were two full days resting on my countertop, and they were still quite firm. I tasted them and they were seemingly a bit under-ripe for eating out of hand, but they were PERFECT in this crisp. The pears held their shape, but released their sweetness and flavor.

So, here’s the gist of the recipe – first you make the topping (which has some ground up almonds in it), which needs to be made ahead and chilled (so it doesn’t cook too fast in the oven). Then you make the browned butter with fresh vanilla bean. Then you peel, core and cube-up the pears, mix it up with some pear brandy and the browned butter and pour that into a baking dish and top with the crumbs. Bake. This recipe is not difficult at ALL. But it’s unique for a couple of reasons – the browned butter adds a real depth, a nuttiness to the pears. And the pear brandy helps accent the pear flavor too. It’s baked for about 40 minutes or so, and you’ll want to serve this warm if possible. But, I’ll have to confess – there were leftovers that I brought home. Oh my goodness was it ever good! One morning I was in a rush to get somewhere and had a small little bowl of it for breakfast. It’s fruit, right?

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So, I was browsing through some of the blogs I read, and I happened on Chez Loulou’s post (I so enjoy Loulou’s blog – she lives in France, and has THE most interesting photos in and around the area she lives in – always very entertaining – I even tried to make a watercolor of one of her photos) about a breakfast or brunch dish that she’d made recently. It actually came from another blog Loulou reads (ah yes, I’m going to need to add yet another blog to my growing numbers that I read every few days), called Stonesoup. That blog originates from Australia, although the author is multi-national, I think. She’s lived all over the world, but currently resides in Sydney.

Perhaps it was the chorizo in this dish that intrigued me. Or maybe it was just because I’m always on the lookout for some easy entrée dishes that can stand in for dinner. Don’t you have evenings when you just aren’t inspired, or just don’t have the time? That’s me once in awhile (yes, really, there are times when I just don’t feel up to cooking anything much). So, that got me to thinking about meals – like this egg and bean dish – that is called a brunch dish – but could certainly be served for another meal like dinner.

I well remember that my mother sometimes on Sunday nights after we’d had a large midday dinner, would serve us creamed tuna on toast. She managed to make one small can of tuna spread between three people. She made a simple cream sauce, always added some lemon juice to it, then at the last minute she added the drained contents of one 6-ounce can of tuna, and we’d eat that spooned over one slice of white toast. It was a light meal, and perfect for the day in question. But then, there were Sundays when my mother would serve waffles for dinner. Why or how it ever became a tradition in our family I don’t know, but probably once a month we’d have regular waffles with sausage patties for dinner, with the finale being one last waffle piled with strawberries and whipped cream. As a kid, I thought that meal was heaven on a bun. My parents used to entertain other families for Sunday waffle suppers. My mother and dad are both gone, so I can’t ask them how that tradition ever got started. As a young adult I did have some waffle suppers, but my recollection (this would have been back in the 1960’s and 70’s, they weren’t met with much glee as I thought. I always told guests what we were having, so it wasn’t a surprise, but still I could tell people didn’t love it as much as I did. My DH doesn’t think waffles should be eaten at any meal except breakfast. In years past I tried the waffle supper thing on him, but he ate it reluctantly.

So, maybe it was that background of waffles on Sunday nights that made me look at this recipe with more interest. We don’t eat hearty breakfasts – if we do it seems to mess up our eating for the whole day. We’re not hungry for lunch, but then we’re starving by about 3-4 in the afternoon. Therefore, when I read this recipe I didn’t even think about breakfast at all. I thought – great idea for a light dinner. It took me 2 days to decide I wanted to make it.

Loulou’s and Stonesoup’s recipe is straight forward – you cook up some chorizo (I made a special trip to Whole Foods to buy their very meaty and lean version), some onion and garlic, a bit of Mexican oregano, red wine vinegar, tomato paste, canned tomatoes and canned cannellini beans. Little indentations are made in this mixture and eggs are gently cracked into them, then you bake it in the oven until done to your liking. This dinner took about 40 minutes to make from start to finish. My DH didn’t know what to think when I presented this dish at his place mat – for dinner. I had asked him first if this dish sounded good to him. I won’t say that he was over the top about it from reading the ingredient list, but generally he’s very willing to eat anything I put in front of him. So I made it the next night.

Truly, I enjoyed it a lot and Dave did too. I liked the flavor combination. It was hearty (beans). Very tasty. Easy and quick. I learned a couple of things, however. I revised the recipe to serve 2, since I didn’t know whether we’d eat leftover fried eggs on this chorizo bean bed. So I halved the recipe and tried to adapt it. I used a very large frying pan that can go in a hot oven, but the bean mixture then was quite thin. You must make this in a dish or pan that has enough depth to make the indentations for the eggs. And 15 minutes in MY oven was way too long at 400, so I revised the temp to 375. The eggs were almost rubbery, but not so overdone that we couldn’t eat it. My DH actually liked them that way since he doesn’t like runny eggs. So I’ve revised the cooking time to 10-15 minutes also. You need to determine your own preference. Definitely don’t use convection, either, as you don’t want hot air fanning the eggs! I also want this dish to have a bit more fluid – so use your own judgment about how much of the liquid to cook off. Ours was almost too dry, probably from being in the flatter pan. But it still tasted great.

Then you need to know about the leftovers – there was definitely enough to serve 3 adults using my recipe below. Dave and I both had a small portion of seconds, and there was still some leftover. So, what to do with those, you ask? Easy – I made soup. To the about 1 ½ cups of leftover beans I added some more tomatoes (I still had half a can of tomatoes), a small can of corn, some broth, chile powder, some ancho chile powder, heated it up and sprinkled shredded Cheddar on top. It was scrumptious!
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From a George Bernard Shaw music review: “The concert began with Mozart’s Figaro Overture. If you want to ascertain whether a musician is hopelessly belated, benighted, out of date, and behind his time, ask him how this overture should be played. If he replies ‘In three and a half minutes,’ away with him at once; he is guilty. . . . However, the overture, so treated, is undeniably useful to boil eggs by, though I prefer them boiled four minutes myself.”      -from The Ravenous Muse by Karen Elizabeth Gordon

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