Martini Monday!

We've started a fun little tradition with our friends Nelson and Christina in which we gather on Monday nights to drink martinis and chow down on whatever I decide to make. Nelson aptly named this "Martini Monday", so that's what we all call it.

Just to catch you up on the awesome that happens on these weeknight extravaganzas, here are some photos.

This is the southwest cheeseball I made the very first week, in the shape of an apple. (Because food always tastes better in the shape of other food!)

Our sukiyaki setup in the lovely Beverly residence.

Sada, concentrating VERY HARD on sukiyaki. 

The Wreath 'o Meat. 

Nelson, our resident martini-maker.

Pork tacos with slaw and pineapple.

One of those awesome group pictures that is so magnificently unflattering.

A picture I took after too many martinis.

I really enjoy the arrangement of us bringing the food and them providing the booze, and I try to make something different every week. I'll have to post the instructions for White People Sukiyaki and I've been wanting to explain my taco theorem for quite some time, so keep any eye out for that nonsense!

But mostly just be jealous, because seriously. Martini Monday is the best way to do Monday.

The Perfect Scrambled Egg Sandwich, or How My Mom Never Makes Breakfast

My mom has never been a breakfasty girl, thus she almost never made me breakfast growing up. As a result, I usually avoid the barrage of eggs and bacon that most people go nuts over first thing in the morning for something less trite, like leftover pizza or a sandwich. In fact, I have something of a distaste for breakfast in general. It's like a huge carb and meat fest, and produce hardly ever makes up a substantial portion of the meal.

I dropped Celina off this morning and immediately got that morning hunger pang, so I started thinking about what was in my fridge other than leftovers. I knew there were eggs because Celina loves to make scrambled eggs for herself at any time of day, so I keep them around. Recently, she's been making me wonder if maybe I just never gave breakfast food enough of a chance. I tried to think of the ways I HAVE liked eggs for breakfast in the past. There was always dad's greasy, unholy fried-egg-topped-with-bleu-cheese-crumbles-with-side-of-pan-fried-toast-and-pear-slices-for-the-appearance-of-health extravaganzas, but those are best prepared by someone else, when I'm far away from the kitchen and unable to see just how much butter went into it.

Then it hit me. My fondest, and probably first, memory of liking eggs were the luscious, buttery, crispy scrambled egg sandwiches my mom used to make me when I was a little kid. She did make me breakfast! SHE DID, SHE DID!

So I set out to make a scrambled egg sandwich, Sumalee-style. I started the bacon first, in the microwave, because I only have one working burner for some reason. Then I whipped up some eggs with almond milk, garlic salt from my grinder, and pepper, and threw those in a buttery pan. I took a page out of the Tony Soprano/Jay Pizza book and dotted the egg mixture with some additional dairy (but I used greek yogurt instead of sour cream or cream cheese…you know, health), then set the cooked eggs aside. I spread (real) mayo on a piece of "butter bread" (even though I don't know what the hell that means), spread more butter in the pan and threw the slice on top of it. Shredded cheese went on next, then the eggs and four slices of crispy ass bacon, topped with the other slice of bread. I let it get brown and cripsy, then flipped it with my fingers. (Imma have to make a tutorial on my spatula-free fried sandwiches.)

And you know what? It was a damn fine breakfast sandwich. I even had a little orange juice in the fridge to complete the stereotypical breakfast picture. I should, however, note that I'm fairly certain I'm lactose intolerant, which makes the cheese, the greek yogurt, and all of the butter a pretty poor choice, but you will not catch me being concerned over this.

Moral of the story: if your mother never made you breakfast, the one breakfast she made was probably pretty good.  

My Food Philosophy

My approach to food is simple. The basic idea is that food should:

1. Taste good
I don't think this needs to be explained. Bonus if it also looks pretty.

We make pizza every Tuesday night, and I view it as an opportunity to try wild ingredient combos, because let's face it...it's all going to taste great in melty cheese on crispy dough. But why go the plain sauce and cheese route when you can pile on everything awesome?



2. Be nutritious
I'm not the type to scrutinize labels or do any sort of calculations before I eat (math is not my strong suit). Thus, I think eating foods that don't have labels is the way to go. I'd rather spend 45 minutes making my own granola bars than comparing calories of three different brands.

Salad is one of my favorite "kitchen sink" meals. (I'm also really lucky that I'm with Clark, who LOVES vegetables and salad as much as I do.) This one has all of the ingredients we consider mandatory in our house: leafy greens, salty sunflower seeds, and the ultimate salad topper, craisins. But the addition of goat cheese, strawberries, grapes, and a homemade mustard vinaigrette (and maybe some crusty bread) makes it into a meal.



3. Be fun to make
I don't do recipes. You could even say I am anti-recipe. I also don't measure unless it's completely necessary for the success of the meal (again, math is horrible). Cooking is a creative process for me, and I have a lot of fun planning out meals in my brain and working them out in the kitchen, almost like a puzzle. I feel like anyone who understands the basic tenets of cooking should be able to buy ingredients and execute a delicious meal as long as you don't get too skippy. (Admittedly, this is often my downfall.)

Thai cooking is a perfect example. There are principles and flavors that you have to incorporate to make it "Thai", but every grandmother is going to throw that curry together the way she wants to. I cook my curry by Braille. Depending on the audience, I'll use different veggies, a different proportion of coconut milk to paste, or serve it over crispy fish instead of adding shrimp or chicken. It means I do what feels right, not what a recipe tells me is right.

Jesus, I feel like I'm recruiting for a cult. How do you cook? Do you follow "the Way" or are you a stickler for recipes? Look for more posts on pretty food and Anti-Recipes...I'll convert you all yet!