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.

I made scrambled eggs my way (plain eggs, in butter, over low heat), then I made them her way (with milk, olive oil, medium heat), and today, I show you what happened to my two large grade AA eggs scrambled and cooked...in the microwave oven.

They were right. The eggs certainly cooked. And the eggs certainly did pouf up in the microwave oven. I even went so far as to stop the microwave oven after 30 seconds to give it a stir (to scramble?). But when the final product came out of the oven, the pouf deflated and it looked like a round, very flat, sunny yellow sponge.

For the sake of the experiment, I ate it. It tasted like a rubber sponge.

Do not try this at home. Ever.

Over the weekend, I posted about scrambled eggs, and how for even this very simple thing, there are so many "this is IT" ways to make them. There were some comments about even more ways to cook them, including the microwave oven. Well, I haven't gotten to the microwave oven yet, but I did venture outside my own scrambled eggs technique of plain eggs, in butter, over low heat with a large spatula. I whicked a little bit of milk into the eggs and used olive oil over medium high heat.

The eggs tasted about the same as my scrambled eggs, but they had a different texture - instead of lumpy, bumpy curds, the eggs were smooth in some places like an omelet, which I suspect is from cooking so fast over high heat. I'll have to stick with low heat. I'm not sure how the milk affected the eggs.

However, I liked using olive oil better than butter, because I could really taste eggs. Butter is awesome, but wow, pure eggs is pretty awesome, too.

This week, I try the microwave.

I've heard and read many different ways to make scrambled eggs, all of which proclaim that this is the right way to do it for perfect scrambled eggs. This weekend, I'm going to test some out and compare to my own method.

Some say using high heat allows for quicker cooking so there's no danger of over-cooking, while others swear by low heat for the same reason. One of my sisters never uses anything but butter, the other sister only makes scrambled eggs in the fat left behind by bacon, and Mom thinks olive oil lets you "taste the eggs." Some say there's no need to add anything to plain whisked eggs except salt and pepper, but others demand adding milk or cream to keep them creamy. Even the tools get some quibbling: spatula vs. wooden spoon vs. chopstick? That last one's from my Uncle who insists that you must constantly stir the eggs with a single wooden chopstick.

For my own scrambled eggs, I melt a little bit of butter only for taste (less than a tablespoon per serving of two to three eggs), since I'm using a non-stick pan over low heat. I whisk 2 to 3 large eggs per serving with a dash of salt (I add pepper at the table), then pour into the pan. When it looks like the eggs are just starting to turn opaque, I start stirring with the corner of my spatula and cook for about 1½ minutes. When the eggs are still barely runny, I move them to the plate. By the time they get to the table, they're completely cooked.