A Tisket A Tasket

The weekend is coming, and that can only mean one thing. 

EGGS IN A BASKET.

As a person who really only came into wet eggs a few years ago, I must say that this is all quite new for me. And now I really like wet eggs way more than I ever thought I would. Scrambled eggs still hold a very dear place in my heart, but a half-cooked egg is becoming more and more interesting to me all the time. Of all the variations out there, my very favorite wet egg preparation is this: egg in a basket. Or, you know, toad in the hole. Egg in a hole. Willy with a lid. Call it what you will, but just know that this is the most incredible thing to eat. And the ease! Pause here while I do swooning over its sheer simplicity. Let's do the thing where I tell you a recipe in the simplest terms I can come up with.

Egg In A Basket

Cut hole in slice of bread.

Crack egg into small bowl.

Heat butter in skillet.

Brown one side of bread and the hat.

Flip.

Add egg to hole.

Cook until desired doneness. 

Flip again, if you'd like, and cook for five more seconds to seal up the basket.

Okay, okay, wait. That was pathetic! I can do better:

Egg In A Basket

Cut hole.

Crack egg. 

Heat butter. 

Brown bread.

Flip.

Add egg.

Cook.

Flip.

Wait! One more! Shorter! Easier!

Egg In A Basket

Hole.

Egg.

Butter.

Brown.

Flip.

Egg.

Cook.

Flip.

And now, we've landed upon the newest name: 8-Word Egg!

My recent trick is to add some shredded sharp cheddar to the top so that when you do the second flip, the cheese browns and helps create that really nice seal on the top. I know that the traditional method is to not cook the second side, and to leave the egg quite wet and exposed, but give me a break! I'm still getting used to this whole wet egg thing. I need an expansive egg transition period, you know!

Also, a note on bread variety: once you try several types, you will find that there are kinds that work much better than others. If your eggs are large, they may not fit inside some bread-holes. You might need to use a larger glass or biscuit cutter to make the hole, or you may need a larger piece of bread. It's up to you, of course. I do really like a rustic sort of sourdough or country loaf for this project, but sandwich bread also definitely works. I've also been known to split eggs when the bread was too small to contain a large hole. So many possibilities with these holes and eggs!

So all of this talk brings me to 9:06 pm. We officially spoiled our supper with after-work ice cream, so a late dinner-snack might be in order. And if the 8-Word Eggs refuse to wait until morning, who am I to hold them back? We all know that eggs really must be allowed to be eggs.

It's Not Just Music

Because recently I went to a Foxygen concert. Because the opening band, Wampire, was a bunch of vagabond teenagers who projected this spinning pizza image on the screen behind them for the entire duration of their set. Because I made fun of it at first but then ended up liking it way more than I thought I would. Because I counted the pieces of pepperoni way more times than I care to admit, which was actually quite appealing. But look! There! See! I admitted it. Now, tell me -- you counted them, right?

I'm So Proud

First of all, Murray has started showing an interest in reading, which we are very excited about. He seems particularly enthusiastic about books that help him learn how to not cook, but I suppose he takes after his father in that way, so that makes it cute, rather than disappointing. Too many cooks do spoil the broth, after all. And Murray just isn't so good with a knife or a whisk (but please don't tell him I told you that).

Also, remember how he used to not like food? Well, we've had a delightful 180 degree shift, and now Murray has graduated from no-food-ever-because-I-hate-food to yes-I-will-eat-anything-and-beg-endlessly-for-it to I-will-lay-down-under-the-table-while-you're-eating-and-look-obscenely-cute. It's a miracle. And it's not ever been two months! We are so proud. I mean, goodness, I have always dreamed of having a dog who would lay down under my tables. So that's Murray. Keeper of table-forts, patient-waiter, listener of fork and plate and glass clanging, dinner time foot warmer, and master of all cute things. He has even taken to laying down under tables when no one is even eating at the table. And Auntie Colleen came over today and he rested his wet nose on her foot while we ate pretzels at the table. He's so good, this dog. Patience-requiring for everyone involved, yes. Trying, language-less, to help us understand his issues and his sordid past, yes. A little confused about how to gather and nurture his flock without being a total pain in the ass, yes. But a really, really, really good dog.

The most important thing to know about Murray is that he really likes cream cheese the best. And pig ears. And string cheese, and lamb snacks, and peanut butter, of course. And do not even try to give him a vegetable. Ever. (Although I am determined to make this shift. This dog WILL eat vegetables one day. And he will like it.) Sometimes I like to add vegetable pieces to his food bowl, which results in him extracting the vegetable bits, setting them down on the rug next to his bowl, licking them completely clean, and then pushing him aside with his nose into a pile. I can't be too mad, though. One, it's actually sort of cute. Two, remember my onion issue? This pickiness seems to run in the family, right? Ah, now this is something I can understand. This is my kind of dog-language. This, you see, is my kind of dog.