Mind Blowing Eggs for Smarty Pants Teenagers

Dear Reader,

Last week as I was polishing off the last of the chocolate eggs, I was wondering aloud why the Easter holiday even features eggs. It's really kind of creepy when you think about a giant rabbit sneaking around and hiding eggs all over your house. I mean, if a person were doing that, they'd likely get shot. Well lucky me, I have a smarty pants in the family, in the person of one teenage son, who told me that eggs are featured in Easter celebrations because the holiday is derivative of pagan fertility rituals, and eggs are, duh, all about fertility. Then he went on to tell me about gender fluidity, and that our universe began as a singularity and is expanding in all directions at the same time, and therefore has no center. I tried really hard, but I can't get my mind around that, and did you guys even know about gender fluidity? I needed a drink.

All of a sudden it was time to make dinner, and I wasn't in the mood to go to the grocery store to buy food stuffs for cookery, because like I said, I had been drinking. I opened my cupboards and did a quick inventory, and found the perfect solution in the form of the almighty egg.  I present to you, the ultimate food for any meal. Seriously - breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinner, late night snack, second dinner, it's perfect

Enjoy.

Mind Blowing Eggs for Smarty Pants Teenagers

You will need:
Olive oil
Onion, chopped fine
Garlic, minced
Paprika
White wine
1 can crushed tomatoes
Eggs
Cheeses
Chives
Baguette

First up, preheat the oven to 425. Pour some olive oil into a sauce pan, and when it gets glossy, add in the onion. Saute for five minutes or so, then add the garlic. Give it a stir, then add a half teaspoon of paprika. If you like, you can also add a pinch of crushed red pepper. I skipped this because I was making this for my family, and if I make something that is at all spicy, I have to sit across the table from people who are gasping, clutching their throats, gulping down water, and sometimes trying to wipe off their tongues with a napkin. So I left it out. If you like it, toss it in. Next up, mommy's little helper, aka white wine. Pour in a glug and stir everything around. My buzz was starting to wear off, so I also poured a few glugs into a glass for my enjoyment. Then I added the tomatoes and some salt and pepper. I let it simmer for about twenty minutes, you can let it simmer for longer, but I was hungry.

I greased the inside of my ramekins with a little butter, then ladled in some of the tomato sauce. Then I cracked an egg into a small bowl and tipped it into the ramekin. NOTE: I did not simply crack the egg into the ramekin itself, as this might result in shells in the dish, and subsequent micro-inspection of food by fellow diners, nor did I hide the whole egg under the sauce, as that would be disgusting. Once the egg is inside, sprinkle on some salt and pepper.

I placed my ramekins on a baking sheet and also threw on some sliced baguette that I had brushed with olive oil. I kept a close eye on the whole affair once it went into the oven, so I could remove the baguette once nicely toasted. When the egg whites were almost set, I sprinkled grated cheeses over the ramekins. One of us wanted Cheddar, two wanted Parmesan, one wanted Gruyere. No problem for me, as I had all three. If you have to choose, I'd go for the Parmesan. Back into the oven until the whites were set, the cheese melted, and the yolks still runny. Snip, snip, snip, went the chives on top, and are you freaking kidding me?!? This was so delicious I made it again two nights later, and nobody even complained. In fact, they were delighted. Mind blown.

Totally Forgot About Swim Suit Season Garlic Bread Pudding

Dear Reader,

It has been raining for what seems like weeks.  This cold grey weather feels more late September than early June, which perhaps explains my lack of judgment in preparing last night's dinner.  Smart gals plan June menus with an eye toward fitting into a bathing suit at the beach rather than having to wrap yourself in two garbage bags tied together with duct tape.  But I kind of don't care because what I made was so freaking good.  Real good.  I had almost an entire loaf of garlic bread left over from the night before, and maybe I've been watching too many episodes of Chopped, but my mind immediately went to bread pudding.  Holy cow.

Totally Forgot About Swim Suit Season Garlic Bread Pudding

 I had some mushrooms, so I sauteed them in my skillet with a little butter.

 I also had some soy sausage, so I fried that up as well.

I put these things in a dish with my torn up garlic bread.  Everything was looking a little brownish, so I threw in some sliced sun-dried tomatoes because I don't care if it's not 1994 anymore, I still love the damn things.  I mixed three eggs and three egg yolks with two cups of milk, salt and pepper, and poured it over the whole mess.  Then I waited about 45 minutes.  I didn't really just wait for 45 minutes.  I was doing other things during that time.  That would be pretty sad if I just sat and watched the bread sopping up the custard for 45 whole minutes while I cried deep down on the inside that I had nothing better to do.  What I should have done is filled up on carrot sticks or broccoli to avoid the coming feeding frenzy.  I sprinkled on a generous handful of grated parmesan and baked at 350 for about 40 minutes.

I know, it doesn't look like I ate much, but this was the plate I served to my son, who almost gagged literally to death on the sun-dried tomatoes, but otherwise thoroughly enjoyed this dish.

To make up for this decadence, I offer this musical sampling, perfectly distracting for the long slog on the treadmill.  And this dude kind of looks like a musical theater version of my husband.  Enjoy.

Ham Souffle for a High School Reunion

Dear Reader,

Apologies, but it has taken me some time to process this whole high school reunion thing.  First off, it was completely overwhelming.  The first hour was spent having the same two minute conversation thirty times.  And then one thing became painfully evident - people don't change.  If you were a douchebag in high school, chances are you're still a douchebag.  A fat, balding douchebag.  The one exception to this rule is nerds.  Nerds are great.  If you were a dorky nerd in high school, chances are good that you look better than ever - perhaps due to high earning potential resulting from proficiency in math and computer science, and chances are even better that you've got a winning personality, having honed your wit to prevent being stuffed in a locker.  Whatever stereotype you fit into in high school, I offer you not only something delicious to eat, but also some tips should you attend your own reunion.  Enjoy.

Ham Souffle for a High School Reunion

You will need:

Honesty

Parmesan cheese

1 cup milk

2 1/2 Tbs. butter

3 Tbs. flour

1/2 tsp. salt

4 egg yolks

Facial 

5 egg whites

1 cup shredded Gruyere cheese

1 cup diced Prosciutto

Limo

Photographer

Look yourself in the eye, either by standing in front of a mirror or by staring at a recent photo of yourself, and honestly answer the question, "Have I ever been happier than I was in high school?"  If the answer is, "Are you kidding?  Of course I have!  High school was alright, but kind of a nightmare sometimes."  You'll be fine.  If you answer,  "Of course not.  High school was the absolute most best time of my life.  Everybody loved me.  I ruled the school and all those dorks wished they could be just like me," get ready, because your upcoming reunion is going to be a very BIG NIGHT for  you, and you've got work to do.

Begin with your body.  It's true that nobody looks the same as they did in high school, but trust me, some of these stay-at-home moms have been doing non-stop Pilates instead of rooting around in the fridge like you have.  Spare no expense and put yourself on a juice fast starting right after you eat the delicious souffle that is as full of ham as your campaign for Student Council President.  Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

Call old high school friends to see who is planning on attending, and most important - what they will be wearing!  Grease a souffle dish with butter, dabbing a little bit around the eyes to soften your crow's feet.  Pour Parmesan cheese into the dish and tilt to coat all over.  Speaking of coats, do an assessment of your marriage.  If it is falling apart before your eyes, purchase a gigantic jewel or great big fur coat to distract from your evident loneliness.  Warm the milk in a pot.

In a large saucepan, melt the butter over low heat and stir in the flour.  Whisk vigorously for two or three minutes to tighten and tone your wobbly triceps, then pour in the milk and keep whisking until as thick as your high school boyfriend's skull.  Season with salt and add the yolks one at a time as you remember all your greatest moments - when three boys on the lacrosse team asked you to the prom; the talent show where you received a standing ovation for your hilarious send up of Principal Foster; the graduation party your parents threw - 4 kegs!  Set saucepan aside to cool.

Whip the egg whites until stiff, then fold into the yolk mixture alternately with Gruyere and Prosciutto.  Pour into the prepared dish and decide what to wear.  Obviously this will be determined by your household income and your sense of self-worth.  If you are fortunate to have come from a wealthy family, make a list of all that your wealth has allowed you to accomplish for yourself and the world.  If you spend part of the year, say, handing out mosquito nets in Uganda, then it really won't matter to you.  However, if you spend part of the year in St. Barths and the other part hanging around the house and shopping, what you wear makes a big difference!  Keep it understated, to minimize your selfishness.

Pop souffle into oven and turn the heat down to 375.  Bake until golden brown and puffed up like your high school boyfriend is now.  Eat entirety while reading old yearbooks and crying.  Do not forget the old adage: The less you have to offer, the more you have to prove!  Depending on how sloppy drunk and slutty you acted the last time you saw these people, the more time you are going to want to spend with your hot rollers.  Book daily sessions with a personal trainer, a facial and hire a limo to take you to the prom, I mean reunion.  Also book a professional photographer, because this is going to be the last great night of your life.  Well, for the next ten years anyway.

Poached Eggs Brulee to Avoid a Terrible Mistake

Dear Reader,

I have had another letter that demands my attention!  See for yourself:

Dear Heather,


Last summer I got engaged to my boyfriend Josh.  We've been together for about three years and I really wanted to get married.  All my friends are married already, so I kind of put the pressure on, leaving pictures of engagement rings lying around and all that.  Problem is, he is driving me NUTS.  I can't stand being around him.  When he eats, he chews and breathes really heavy through his nose at the same time.  Gross!  And he reads comic books, which I used to think was cute and alternative, but now I just see it as another factor in the long list of what makes him a dork.  And the worst part is his throat hair!  It's like his chest hair keeps right on going up to his ears.  What do I do? My mother would kill me if I break up with him.  She's paying for the wedding.


Please help,
Denise
Morristown, NJ

Oh, Denise.  These feelings, the impatience with your boyfriend; your disgust at the way he eats; the utter disdain for his lack of intelligence and fascination with boyhood culture, are all completely normal.  Unfortunately this knowledge usualy comes to a lady after five or six years of marriage.   Your eyes have been opened too soon!  Never fear, I can help.  By the time your wedding date rolls around, Josh will have headed for the hills with his Sasquatch brethren.  For you I offer:

Poached Eggs Brulee to Avoid a Terrible Mistake

You Will Need:

Eggs
Grapefruit Juice
Turmeric
Sugar
Coca-Cola
Ipecac
Blowtorch
Beets

When fiance goes to bed at night, eat beets.  Eat at least one pound of beets, some of them boiled and some raw, like an apple.  If you start to feel sick, picture dressing your future children for their school pictures and combing their throat hair.  Choke down those beets!  In morning, when you begin to feel effects of beets in the form of visible gas rising in your abdomen, stand very near finace and let loose. When he wakes with a start in a cold sweat, terrified, wink at him and head to kitchen.

Heat a pan of water and get ready to boil his eggs.  Add in a hefty glug of grapefruit juice and a generous pinch of turmeric.  When the water is boiling, crack in his eggs.  Don't try any chef tricks to keep them together in the pot - the messier the better!  While his eggs boil you have a little time, so make yourself look as much like your mother as possible.  For me this involves donning a blue suit with a matching blue pump on one foot and black loafer on the other, and always Loreal A La Mauve on the lips.

Down a Coca-Cola before he sits down to breakfast.  Use phrases like, "Sooo glad I can just let it all hang out now that we're getting married," and, "It's such a relief to just be me!" and if you should have sex, "Sooo much better than masturbating," punctuated by belches from Coke.

Take his eggs out while the whites are still nauseatingly translucent.  Place them on a plate and top with a good amount of sugar.  If the turmeric hasn't make them yellow enough, drip a bit of green food coloring in the center of each.  Turn on the blowtorch and stomp around the kitchen with it while you point out all of the projects he has started and not finished, with increasing anger, farting beets for added emphasis.

Go to bathroom and chug Ipecac.  Vomit in center of kitchen.  Burn the sugar on top of eggs to make a nice crust.  Serve him this dish explaining that it is not part of a "diet plan" but a "lifestyle change."  Wait.

Breakfast of Wannabe Champions

Dear Reader,

As most of you know, the NYC Marathon was today and it was won by a man from the good ole’ US of A for the first time in 27 years. Still in my pajamas, drinking coffee and nibbling on bacon dipped in syrup, I sat on the couch and listened to the commentators as Meb Keflezighi ran his last 2.6 miles to the finish line. They passionately described his struggle, how his family fled war ravaged Eritrea and his parents raised their eleven children in the US, all of whom graduated from college. With tears in my eyes, I watched him cross the finish line as the commentator said, “A great champion and a wonderful person.”

I would like someone to call me a great champion and wonderful person. But that’s not going to happen unless I get out of these pajamas. I have never had any desire to run a marathon, fearful of course that that I would be one of the runners to lose control of their bowels. But perhaps, with a little precaution and some proper training, I, and you too, may one day be great champions. So today I offer a little training advice and some sustenance in case you are thinking about running in next year’s marathon. And as I watched the women runners, noting that they have glutes where I have a booty, the idea has some appeal.

Breakfast of Wannabe Champions

You will need:

Eggs

Bacon

Running Shoes

iPod (or other mp3 player)

Sweat pants

Bathroom

On the first day of the rest of your life, spring out of bed and immediately put on gym clothes. Gym clothes should be the ratty old variety for reasons to be made clear momentarily. Since you are now a marathon runner you can eat a big breakfast so crack five eggs into a bowl. Heat up the stove and place six strips of bacon in a pan and fry, turning once until nicely crisp. While the bacon fries, load up the iPod with motivational music of your choice. For me this includes Duran Duran, Jai Ho and songs by skinny women like Madonna and the Spice Girls, also some of my kids’ soundtracks like Madagascar (I Like To Move It) and of course the theme from Speed Racer. Put a lot of butter – remember you’re an athlete! into a non-stick skillet and dump in the eggs. Scramble over low heat as you scramble to find the running shoes you bought two years ago on your last fitness kick. When done, plop the eggs onto a plate like you normally plop your fat ass onto the couch about this time of day. Place the bacon next to the eggs and drizzle with syrup (trust me). Eat entirety with coffee or red bull and a Gatorade.

Go to the bathroom! Make sure that you eliminate all contents of bowels lest they do they job themselves while you’re on the treadmill. In case of incontinence, either due to age or vaginal delivery, place some sort of diaper-like device such as a Poise pad or a kitchen sponge into your undies. Then hit the gym!

On treadmill, start at a good pace like a 16-minute mile. Gradually increase by one minute per mile until you reach six miles or vomit. Afterward, don’t forget to stretch! If the pain is unbearable do not fear – tomorrow is the first day of the rest of your life, and it’s never too late to take up competitive eating.

Went To Bed Angry Cheese Strata

Dear Reader,

I had such an amazing response from all of you! Bad marriages, slutty mothers and inappropriate groping at the workplace, it was hard to choose just one trouble to help with. But one letter in particular stood out to me because it highlights a problem that so many of us have had.

Dear Heather,

Please help me!!! My wife and I have been arguing a lot lately, usually late at night. Well, I know you’re not supposed to go to bed angry and all that, but I just get so damn sleepy! What can I do for the awkward and angry silence the next day?

Yours,
Kevin

Kevin, I’m with you! I think people that want to stay up and fight are just plain belligerent. No argument is worth precious sleeping hours, especially when you are in the wrong. Here I have provided you with just the right breakfast for those horrid mornings when you just want the whole thing to blow over.

Went To Bed Angry Cheese Strata

You will need:
6 eggs
1 lb. asparagus
1 ¼ cups milk
½ stick unsalted butter
Humility
¼ cup minced onion
4 slices good quality white bread, cubed
¾ cup crumbled Boursin cheese (any variety)

Wake before spouse and sneak down to kitchen. Very quietly snap off the ends of the asparagus the way your spouse is dreaming of snapping off the ends of your fingers at this very moment. Cut into bite-sized pieces and stick them in a microwavable bowl with a bit of water, cover and nuke for 2 minutes or the length of time you said, “Nananananananana” with your fingers in your ears last night while she was telling you her “feelings.” Drain.

Whisk together eggs, milk salt and pepper in a large bowl. Take out the skillet from behind the sofa where it was hurled the night before. Melt the butter over medium-high heat and throw in the onions. Don’t worry that they will make you cry as you used all your tears in the “You Don’t Love Me Anymore” monologue you performed. When the onions are soft, put in the bread and cook three minutes longer. Remove from heat.

Pour eggs in skillet, poking at bread like she poked you in the chest over and over as if you needed a physical reminder of where the blame lay. Scatter the asparagus into the eggs then top with cheese. Pop into oven until set – about 15 minutes. Be careful to use oven mitt when removing strata, as you will illogically blame any burn on your wife who is still sleeping. Cut her a large piece, and serve it to her with a big smile and even bigger apology.

Sisters Are Doin' It For Themselves Mother's Day Frittata

Dear Reader,

It is time once again for my most favorite holiday! A day of relaxation and pampering and drinking too much and sleeping it off. I am speaking of course of Mother’s Day. As a mother, this is the best day of my year. I sleep late, have a massage and drink mimosas all day long! Of course this takes a little planning on my part, so I am here to offer some tips to you moms so that you can enjoy your day as much as I will.

I hear from so many women who have complaints about Mother’s Day.

For instance Lauren from Flagstaff writes:

Last year I woke on Mother’s Day to find my husband had left early to go golfing. When I met him later for my Mother’s Day brunch he was already drunk so I had to be the designated driver.

And Sally from Sheboygan writes:

My husband let the kids make me breakfast in bed, which consisted of three Skittles in a tea cup and a giant, inexplicable mess in the kitchen for me to clean.

And poor Beth from Katonah:

Every Mother’s Day I have to go to my mother-in-law’s house and spend the day cleaning out her gutters while she soaks her bunions in Epsom Salts. My husband Danny goes with his dad to the whorehouse in Mt. Kisco. It’s their way of ‘giving the women folk a rest.’ Well I think it stinks.

I couldn’t agree more, Beth. That doesn’t sound like fun at all.

To help, I’ve cooked up a little frittata for the moms. So whether you birthed your kids through your vagina, or your organs were removed from and replaced into your body during a c-section, or you bought your kids on eBay, this one is for you!

Sisters Are Doin’ It For Themselves Mother’s Day Frittata

You will need:

8 eggs
2 Tbs. butter
Alarm clock
1 cup onions, thinly sliced
1 cup Gruyere, grated
Phone
1 cup sliced mushrooms
Champagne
1 cup spring peas
Handful Parmesan cheese
Salt and Pepper
Pen and paper

The day prior to Mother’s Day, preheat broiler then heat butter in a 10-inch non-stick skillet. Sauté onions until translucent then add mushrooms. Use phone to book any spa treatments you wish your husband would have booked for you.

Crack eggs into a bowl and scramble with a fork. Toss peas into skillet then add in the eggs the way you added your eggs to baby daddy’s sperm to make the kids that are supposed to be making this frittata for you. Season with salt and pepper.

Sprinkle all over with Gruyere and cook until almost set. Throw on the Parmesan and place under broiler until golden brown. Remove from oven and cool.

Set alarm for one hour earlier than kids get up. Heat frittata in oven, enjoy with a glass of champagne. Pen quick note to husband and kids saying “Thanks for the day off! It’s just what I wanted!” Don’t forget to bring champagne with you to spa appointments! Call home at end of day for a ride, as you will be too drunk to drive. Once home, head straight to bed with either the box set of the Twilight series, collected films of Robert Wagner or giant book of crossword puzzles, depending on age.