I’ve never been a big breakfast person. I know what they say about it being the most important meal of the day and all, but I seem to get along fine without it. In four years of college, I probably made it to breakfast seven times, when I could scrounge together five minutes to grab a bagel before class. Generally, if it’s before noon, I just don’t have a strong desire to eat. But I’ll tell you what I do have strong feelings about. Brunch. Sweet, savory, delicious brunch at 2 o’clock on a Saturday, anywhere I can get it.
I love “brunch, the social event”, especially when it
involves my girlfriends and mimosas, even more so if the restaurant has taken
them up a notch with some twee stand in for the OJ. Blood orange
mimosas? So festive! I know a lot of chefs hate brunch because
the concept of churning out 200 plates of eggs benedict for the masses is
offensive to their art. But people have to eat, so stow the tude and give me
that fancy BLT that pads your margins for dinner service.
Brunch is equally as enjoyable in my own kitchen. Waking up
on the weekends and cooking a big meal, whether its just for Jake and me, or a
table full of friends, is one of my favorite things to do. I tend to default to
savory dishes - I enjoy waffles more when they’re served with fried chicken - and
now that we’re well into spring, the farmers markets are full of beautiful
produce to build our spread around. Right now it’s delicate
asparagus and sweet, juicy strawberries. Soon enough it will be peaches, corn,
and my eagerly anticipated favorites, tomatoes.
While we were waiting around for nature’s bounty, there was
one dish we defaulted to over and over again, mostly because it it’s cheap,
filling, and our pantry is consistently stocked with the majority of the contents, which meant we didn't have to leave the apartment. It began as a hearty cold weather hash based on sweet
potatoes and chicken sausage, but it lends itself well to any season with the
right add ins. These days we’re big fans of fistfuls of cilantro, jalapenos and
fresh corn, and as soon as they hit the market, it'll be bell basil and peaches. I think of it the same way I do bowls from Chipotle, which is, give me the works, please. Use whatever you have or whatever you like best.
Recipe: Serves 4
2 large sweet potatoes
3/4 lb chicken sausage (4 links)
1 yellow onion, diced
1 red bell pepper, diced
1 jalapeno, diced and seeds reserved
2 ears corn (1 cup)
2 cloves garlic
Fistful of cilantro, roughly chopped
Salt and cayenne pepper
Olive oil
Put potatoes, skin on, in a large pot of water and bring to a boil for about 20 minutes or until potatoes are just barely tender. Remove and set aside to cool. Heat a cast iron pan on medium and add a few tablespoons of olive oil, then saute bells, jalapenos (with seeds if you like heat), onions and garlic until soft, seasoning with salt. When done, set them aside in a bowl and add diced sausage (if pre-cooked) to the pan to brown. If not cooked, dice after browning links and cooking through. Add to the bowl with the aromatics and peppers.
When the potatoes have cooled enough to handle, dice into 1/2 inch cubes and brown in the pan, seasoning with plenty of salt and cayenne to taste. Don't touch them for a good 3-4 minutes or until they've developed a crust, then turn them and brown on the other side. When done to your liking, add in the onions, peppers and sausage, along with the fresh corn and lots of chopped cilantro. Et voila.
PS - Though I am one of brunch's biggest fans, I must disclose that I've snubbed one of its star players for most of my life. I ate my first egg on my twenty-fourth birthday and have eaten exactly one more since then, only a few weeks ago. A dislike for eggs is one of the last remaining stubborn quirks of my picky childhood. I’m coming around, slowly, but only when they are warm and runny, ie as close to their natural form as possible. I’m beginning to understand the fondness with which people speak of a poached yolk enveloping the contents of one's plate. But given that the smell of scrambled eggs literally sends me into a fit of tear filled gagging, I may have to live without omelettes, quiche and the like. As always, I am a work in progress. Aren't we all?
PPS - Bonus points to you if you recognized the Simpsons quote in the title.
Recipe: Serves 4
2 large sweet potatoes
3/4 lb chicken sausage (4 links)
1 yellow onion, diced
1 red bell pepper, diced
1 jalapeno, diced and seeds reserved
2 ears corn (1 cup)
2 cloves garlic
Fistful of cilantro, roughly chopped
Salt and cayenne pepper
Olive oil
Put potatoes, skin on, in a large pot of water and bring to a boil for about 20 minutes or until potatoes are just barely tender. Remove and set aside to cool. Heat a cast iron pan on medium and add a few tablespoons of olive oil, then saute bells, jalapenos (with seeds if you like heat), onions and garlic until soft, seasoning with salt. When done, set them aside in a bowl and add diced sausage (if pre-cooked) to the pan to brown. If not cooked, dice after browning links and cooking through. Add to the bowl with the aromatics and peppers.
When the potatoes have cooled enough to handle, dice into 1/2 inch cubes and brown in the pan, seasoning with plenty of salt and cayenne to taste. Don't touch them for a good 3-4 minutes or until they've developed a crust, then turn them and brown on the other side. When done to your liking, add in the onions, peppers and sausage, along with the fresh corn and lots of chopped cilantro. Et voila.
PS - Though I am one of brunch's biggest fans, I must disclose that I've snubbed one of its star players for most of my life. I ate my first egg on my twenty-fourth birthday and have eaten exactly one more since then, only a few weeks ago. A dislike for eggs is one of the last remaining stubborn quirks of my picky childhood. I’m coming around, slowly, but only when they are warm and runny, ie as close to their natural form as possible. I’m beginning to understand the fondness with which people speak of a poached yolk enveloping the contents of one's plate. But given that the smell of scrambled eggs literally sends me into a fit of tear filled gagging, I may have to live without omelettes, quiche and the like. As always, I am a work in progress. Aren't we all?
PPS - Bonus points to you if you recognized the Simpsons quote in the title.
