Easy, Lovely, Strange

When you love someone, sometimes you do things for them that you don't totally understand.

My Sidekick turned thirty this January and one morning a few days before, I woke up and baked. This is not really normal behavior for me. But, the dude loves corn muffins the way most people love their pets, so I decided to take one for the team.

Breakfast of Fall Champions

My Sidekick is desperate for me to love fall. And to be truthful about it, I do. I love fall. What I hate is winter. And in New York, as in pretty much any other place I've lived, fall lasts about two weeks. Then, what happened today happens. The temperature drops twenty degrees overnight, winter is here early, all of our hearts die a little bit and we put our winter coats on to trudge through the next six months of slush.

I am deeply sorry for being this hyperbolic. Why am I even telling you this? Because I want you to stay inside tomorrow and make breakfast.

Ugly Duckling

Suddenly, all I can talk about on Friday is what you should make for breakfast over the weekend. Today, I realized that I don't really have anything breakfast oriented to talk about. Or do I?

Here's the question: does the idea of making raw bacon and cheese force-meat repulse you? I mean, by all accounts it should. It sounds and looks pretty gross. But there is just no way you can get the bacon to get so cheesy, or the cheese to get so bacony without doing so. I used my food processor for this because, as I noted to my Sidekick, who was already making me a third cocktail, "She keeps calling for a meat grinder because food processors didn't exist." Don't get me wrong. I have a meat grinder. But drunk food processor use somehow seemed safer.

Crazy for breakfast: H-to-the-uevos

There are days when New York City is particularly unforgiving. Days when commutes are long and choked with people. Days when the wind whips around buildings like a freight train and blows your umbrella in half. Days when cabs splash you with puddles of dubious composition as they drive past. Those are the days when I miss certain niceties about New Mexico, which for better or worse, is a place where people will still hold the door for you and smile at you without asking you for money or directions.

Those are the days when simmering a big pot of red chile to pour over things feels most imperative to me. And, because my obsession with breakfast becomes increasingly intense with each passing weekend morning, this particular giant pot of red chile was meant for huevos.

More Weekend! More Breakfast!

Guys, I've gone breakfast crazy lately. Have you noticed? Of course you have. I have too. I'm not really sure what's to blame. Maybe it's the fact that my Sidekick and I see getting up just a little earlier on weekends as a very adult decision. (Please, don't panic. By early I mean maybe 10 instead of 11.) Maybe it's the fact that living in Brooklyn gives me regular access to some of the best eggs I've ever tasted. Maybe it's because I'm almost incapable of cooking for anything less than an army and leftovers are really good with eggs on top.

What Are You Eating for Breakfast This Weekend?

I have a love/hate relationship with pancakes. I love them for certain things: the occasional, buttery crunch they get on the outside when they've been cooked just right, the puffy air pockets that soak up syrup and the fact that they are one of the few foods you can eat in shapes. I hate them because they are almost always too sweet, too heavy and they are, let's be honest for a minute, very rarely in shapes. Not to mention the fact that I am usually full after three bites and hungry again in thirty minutes. It is for all these reasons that a Dutch Baby is one of the best things to happen to my breakfast life in some time.