Bad Home Cooking

The Daily Bad: Scrambled eggs in corn oil

Not the most nutritious way to start the day.

My last two eggs. One hungry boy. About 20 minutes before we had to leave for school. Enough time to make scrambled eggs and toast and tea and sate the offspring while pumping up my meager Mom cred.

Ah if only I weren't the bad home cook.

The kitchen reflected my mood: All of last night's dishes in the sink and every surface cluttered. Every spoon slept with the fishes underneath the cold, dark waters of last night's neglected dish-washing duty. I like a neat kitchen in the morning as much as the next person, but sometimes come 11:30 p.m. I'm just too wiped out, in both body and mind, to manage. I opt to ignore it all in favor of bed, even though I know I'll hate myself in the morning. And here I was paying the price again.

But wait! There was my cast iron skillet, hiding on the far burner of the stove, looking clean and lightly oiled, ready for use, and gleaming like the promise of a better day.

So I whisked those two eggs in a glass measuring cup, added a twist of pepper, some sea salt, a small blurp of milk. I put my last two pieces of bread into the toaster and poured the tea. And when the pan had heated for a few minutes, I dumped the eggs in....

...into a quarter-inch of now heated corn oil. Left over from the blue corn chips I'd made last night to accompany the vegetarian chili my kids wouldn't eat. (This time I made it too spicy for them).

You can't really undo eggs yolks in oil. I wondered if maybe there wasn't some ethnic dish involving corn oil and eggs that I could try, if not to salvage my kids' breakfast then at least to salvage my self-esteem, but there wasn't enough time to look it up now. 

So they had toast. And no tea. And no eggs.

On the bright side, at least they weren't late for school.

Marian Gore, persimmon pudding lady

The persimmon pudding lady has left us.

Marian L. Gore was a longtime bookseller, specializing in all things gastronomical. Books about cooking and wine, especially old books on these topics, were her favorites. She died October 11, 2009, at the ripe old age of 95. at the height of persimmon season.

If I'm allowed a crude comparison, it's only the most mature, well-ripened persimmons that are sweet enough to take away and do something better with.

Such as make pudding. Here's the simple recipe that she was best known for:

Beat one egg well in a bowl

Sift together and add 1 1/4 cup flour, 1 cup sugar, 1 teaspoon baking soda, 1 teaspoon baking powder, 1/2 teaspoon salt, 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

Add mashed pulp of three large ripe persimmons, 3/4 cup milk, 1 tablespoon melted butter, 1 teaspoon vanilla. Stir until mixed.

Bake 1 hour or a little more at 300 degrees

Serve warm or cold with cream.

Try some of this in the next month or so, and think of the pudding lady as you taste the first spoonful.

Beat the flu: Bad Home Cook-style

Nobody rolled her eyes more dramatically than I did at the hype surrounding the H1N1 "Swine Flu" pandemic. But after watching just about everyone I know take to their beds with a flu that came with a throat full of nails and a loss of inner-ear balance, I myself got felled.

Was it the dread Swine Flu? Who knows. All I do know is that it was a doozy of a flu bug. I was on my back for two days and probably should have stayed down for another two. But in between, I fought back with tradition, folklore, and non-science. And I emerged greatly improved. Allow me to share the method to my madness.

Garlic. Upon first signs of sickness, send someone else out to the store for several heads of garlic. You must make garlic soup, and lots of it. You can try my version of Julia Child's a l'ail aux pommes de terre (that's garlic soup with potatoes) or Heidi Swanson's version of Richard Olney's classic version. This looked creamy and delicious (just look at that photo!), but not surprisingly, I botched it. Strangely enough though, it still helped a great deal.

Hot and sour soup - there's a Chinese place on the corner that makes a hot and sour soup with mysterious and proven healing qualities. Over the last five years, it's been the deal-breaker between me and certain death. It must have something to do with the strange chilis stewing within, or the mixing of the hot and cold vapors, or the special mushrooms. Maybe it's the tofu. Whatever the reason, it works every time, breaking whatever hold an illness has on me. I've never tried this at home, but maybe you should in this case: Epicurious has the number for you. 

Tea with honey. - Any kind of tea, but make sure it's local honey. I don't think of myself as a crunchy granola type, but I really do believe that honey made from your friendly neighborhood bees packs a particular punch to your immune system.

Just stay home already: Don't be a martyr to corporate America. If you feel yourself getting sick, just call in sick. If you try to put a brave face on it and go in, chances are your colleagues will rat you out anyway.

Shots of Whiskey. It works. A doctor friend told me this himself (OK, he's English, but he's still an M.D.). One this one count, my Irish grandmother would have agreed with him 100% Not for nothing whiskey has been called the "water of life." Take a shot (or if you're larger than me, take two) at night after the kids are down. Tell me it doesn't fight symptoms better than Nyquil...

Try all of the above and get lots of rest. And let me know how you're feeling.