"scrambled eggs" news and stories

Like ramps and asparagus, morels are synonymous with spring, and an edible reminder of the season's brevity. It feels less like morels have a season than a quick, annual engagement: catching them at the farmers market is like catching a solar eclipse, or Tom Jones at the MGM Grand in Vegas.

Morels are wild mushrooms that grow in forested areas throughout many parts of the country, and generally begin appearing sometime in April. They're usually available until the early summer, but their season can vary by a week or two depending on the region and the amount of rainfall. They're slender, knobby things with intricately ridged and wrinkled skin, and look like they sprouted from the pages of the Brothers Grimm. Their homely appearance belies their heavenly flavor, which is expressed to spectacular effect in the company of dairy, fat and and asparagus. Scrambled eggs are thus an ideal way to enjoy morels -- think of it as less an egg dish than a vehicle for delivering the best of the season to your very happy stomach.

Read the recipe for scrambled eggs with morels, asparagus and spring onions after the jump.

A good buttermilk biscuit is like a self-effacing nuclear physicist: its humble exterior belies the brilliance it harbors beneath its surface. Based upon that comparison, the biscuit pictured above could win a Nobel Prize -- or at least top honors for World's Best Breakfast Food. Immortalized by SauceSupreme at Flickr, it was made by the amiable gents at Pine State Biscuits in Portland, Ore. The combination of fried chicken, cheddar and scrambled egg is a timeless classic -- as was, one imagines, the sense of satisfaction that followed its consumption.

[Via Flickr]

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Perhaps this is just indicative of the sort of folks with whom I keep company, but I've known at least half a dozen people who've used a brain can as comedic decor, and it's certainly been the butt of jokes around the blogosphere. I cannot, however, recollect any of 'em actually popping the top and feasting. My husband's Aunt Frances, though, couldn't get enough of them as a kid in Plymouth, NC, and told me how she'd hover right by her mother in the kitchen so she could gobble down brains and eggs straight out of the hot skillet.

Who am I to argue with Aunt Frances? I picked up the can in the picture above at Harris Teeter over Christmas in North Carolina, and fixed myself some brains and eggs for breakfast this morning. Picture after the jump.

After a day of travel, Scott and I got home to our apartment last night just before 1 am. The changing time zones and the hours spent locked in a fast-moving metal tube had us totally thrown off and we were both ravenous when we walked in the door. Getting to bed was high on my mind, but I knew that we both needed to eat something or sleep would be impossible.

Opening the fridge, I saw that I had done a good job of emptying it out prior to the trip. Thankfully though, I had had the good sense to leave behind half a done eggs and the tail end of a loaf of bread. Pulling out a cereal bowl and a small frying pan, I quickly beat the eggs and poured them out into the pan. I shoved the bread bag in Scott's direction and said, "Toast, please." I stood at the stove, barely conscious, stirring the eggs with a silicone spatula. As I moved the eggs around the pan, I realized that it had been a week since I cooked a thing, a rare occasion in my life.

Soon enough, the toast popped and the eggs were done. We sat at the table for a few moments, eating eggs in companionable silence. It was a meal that took no more than 15 minutes from conception to completion and yet it was still warm, filling and lovely welcome home.

If you've already decided that foie gras isn't for you, then Michael Ruhlman's recent post on megnut probably isn't going to change your mind. If, however, you're undecided about the stuff, or (gasp) a fan, then by all means this is worth reading. Even with phrases like "pluck out any large dark veins," or "spread out the lobes," Ruhlman makes the fatted liver sound damn tasty, especially with scrambled eggs or soaked in milk and then poached. He also makes the point that, unlike most other high-end products, the foie gras available to the average consumer is likely of the same grade as the stuff available to most chefs because there are only a few suppliers in the U.S. Note that Tony Bourdain gives Ruhlman the atta-boy in the lengthy and worth-reading series of comments that follow the post.