February 11, 2013
One snowy Sunday, I met up with wonderful Jackie for a cozy, girly brunch.
Café Charlot is on a bustling corner in the NoMa, full of very chic people desperate to get their sunday œufs brouillés and cafés. Pretty interior, decent brunch food, gruff waiters. It’s the full Parisian experience.
- January 1, 2013
October 19, 2012
I made and ate these pancakes at 4pm on a weekday afternoon. Afterwards, I texted the gentleman to say that I had made the best pancakes I had ever tasted, but they weren’t any left for him because I ate the whole batch. You see what this guy has to put up with?
This is another recipe from the accidental goodness chronicles. I wanted pancakes. I had figs and hazelnuts. I was short on flour so I added some cornmeal.
The figs stayed in big, ripe chunks that made some bites of these pancakes deliciously juicy. The hazelnuts provided some up-front crunch, with the cornmeal playing backup toothsomeness. They were, in the words of GLaDOS, a triumph.
September 29, 2012
The very first thing I made upon arriving in France was a quiche. A full-sized, caramelized onion and gruyere quiche that I took to my first brunch. The onions were a little over-sweet and it was overcooked due to a timer error, but it worked out in the end. Quiches are forgiving that way.
Since then, I have bizarrely ignored what is clearly the best brunch food known to man. Which is silly, really, given my tart obsession (meaning that I always have several rounds of pastry crust in the freezer) and the gentleman requiring eggs in the morning the way a Frenchman requires a strike at least once a year.
Here’s the thing about quiche, or at least, the thing I like best about quiche: because you have this butter crust holding it together, the eggs can be soft. Extremely soft. Softer than perfect soft-scrambled eggs. If you’re a soft-eggs person, quiche is the ultimate in satisfaction and gooey yolky nirvana.