This is just one of the best breakfasts going. But don’t stop at breakfast. Have it for brunch, lunch or dinner. Have it for dessert if you so desire. It combines everything I adore: eggs, savoury yogurt, harissa, butter and toast. Does it get any better?!
The first day of 2017! And it’s a lazy day. Tomorrow I will plow full steam ahead with healthy dishes. But today, being a Sunday, it’s the last chance to relax the rules a touch. Time for Brunch.
So I present, The Bloody Caesar. Like the Bloody Mary, only better! And uniquely Canadian. So unique, that for the most part, if Canadians are visiting the States, and try to order one in a restaurant, they will be hard pressed to find a bartender who can make one. First of all the bar tender will think you want a salad, with bacon, cheese and romaine lettuce.
Yes, you read that correctly! My Sunday breakfast took two favourite dishes and totally mashed them up. Oooh, mashed potatoes, haven’t had those in a while… I digress. Breakfast. We were at our favourite Pakistani restaurant the other eve, and of course dinner included Butter Chicken and Chicken Tikka Masala. And I realize that these dishes are really UK interpretations of Indian cuisine. But those flavours are quite compelling. And don’t hold back on the heat.
A few times each year, our lives get really busy, with long days away from the house, leaving early in the morning and returning late in the evening. It’s at times like these, that Birchermuesli comes to the rescue.
Long before the days of overnight oats, baked oatmeal etc, there was Birchermuesli. I wasn’t even really sure why it’s called Birchermuesli, so I looked it up (good ole internet!).
Lazy mornings call for a dish beyond a fried egg and toast. Well, no, actually I’ll take a great sunny side up egg and toast any day, even a lazy one. There is something so joyful about dunking that piece of crispy bread into the golden goodness that is a soft, barely cooked egg yolk. I’m sure there is a camp of folks out there that would vehemently disagree with me, including Jim. Runny yolks aren’t his thing.
When Spring appears, then rhubarb isn’t far behind. Growing up, we had a rhubarb patch in the garden. I was always mesmerized by those huge leaves, that were almost big enough to be an umbrella (to an eight year old, anyway!) My mom explained to us, that the leaves were bad for us, but that the stalk (or whatever German word she used for stalk) is what we could eat. Well, ever the impatient one, I would just plop myself on the ground and pull a stalk out of the ground, shake the dirt off, and bite it. The first time I did this, I was not happy!! It was so tart! Like biting into a lemon. I guess I made a face, and everyone had a good laugh. That’s me, provider of free entertainment.
I hope I’m not the only one who remembers taking their allowance money and heading down to the corner store in the summer to buy a popsicle or ice cream on a stick of some sort. Or there was the classic sound of the bells coming down the street, heralding the approach of the ice cream truck, Good Humor or Dicky Dee! And we’d run out, hoping that he hadn’t run out of our favourite flavour. There was the Drumstick: the cone filled with vanilla ice cream, covered in chocolate and nuts. There was the neon, pyschedelic Rocket Pop: the popsicle in those distinct shades of red, white and blue. There was the Strawberry Shortcake: Creamy vanilla popsicle, a sweet strawberry centre and an irresistible strawberry shortcake crumb coating. And my personal favourite: the Creamsicle: a luscious vanilla bar coated in orange sherbet.
Getting caught up on all sorts of odds and ends. Sitting here at the computer going through slips of paper and scribbling on the chalkboard wall reminds me that I’m a tad behind on projects. Well, I will tackle them, one by one.
It’s kind of funny that I’m documenting this recipe today. Because the sun is shining, teasing me, making me think that Spring is on the horizon. But I can’t be fooled by you Sun! As if we would get off that easy. However even in the dreariness of realizing that it is still a February day, we can have a moment in the tropics. …In our smoothie!! These days, a smoothie is as much of a breakfast go-to as Cheerios and milk, as toast and peanut butter, as apple cinnamon oatmeal. I made this smoothie a while back, and the colour just transported me. My glass of happiness and cheer said ‘Tahiti’ even though the view out my window said ‘Toronto”, gloomy and cold.
My mother loved potatoes. She loved preparing them in all their different ways. Mashed, roasted, boiled, fried, schnee (the German word for snow is what she called the potatoes she would put through the ricer, and serve as is. And they did look like a mound of snow!) And one of my favourite ways was roesti. Here in North America we would call them hash browns. The shredded potatoes are formed into a thick pancake and slowly cooked in a skillet. The perfect roesti would be crispy on the outside and soft, almost creamy on the inside.
When I was a child, my mom ensured that we could make our own breakfast. The first thing I conquered was scrambled eggs. And from there, is was such a short journey to french toast. I mean, I was already scrambling the eggs. This time, instead of pouring the eggs directly into the skillet, I learned to dip bread slices in it first. And I learned that some breads work better than others. A thick, dense piece of pumpernickel just wasn’t going to cut it. Save the pumpernickel for salami or corned beef. A marble rye was for egg salad sandwiches. But softer, airier loaves could work. Even crusty rolls slices could work. As long as the inside was soft and fluffy, somewhere for all that eggy goodness to find a home.