Leftover Eggnog Pancakes

We have a lot of eggnog in the house. Ninety-six ounces per person, in fact.

It's fortunate that both B and I love eggnog. It's great in coffee, for example, and pairs well with a variety of liquors a mostly teetotaling homeowner might re-discover in less-used cabinets and the backs of shelves as remnants of parties and former roommates and well-intentioned but never completed dessert recipes. 

However, 192 ounces of eggnog is a lot of eggnog, even when it's spiked with God-knows-how-old spiced rum and whiskey. I won't go into detail on why we have so much (a mid-week pre-holiday dinner party was planned then cancelled day-of, after the food and refreshment had already been purchased). Just know that there's a lot of eggnog, and it's mostly going unconsumed and putting my Catholic guilt on overdrive because I'm sure there are starving children and homeless animals and needy lepers out there who could really, really use this eggnog that we're mostly not drinking.

Searching Google for creative eggnog recipes doesn't really help. In the days after Christmas, the last thing I need is a holiday eggnog cheesecake since I already can't fit in my jeans. Also, eggnog lattes are a cop-out -- if you've been to Starbucks in the past 13 years you'll know why.

I'm not going to pretend that these eggnog pancakes are more savory than sweet, but they're certainly no Brown Butter Eggnog Snickerdoodle Donuts (!!! ???). I personally think they fall somewhere in the middle. The wheat germ helps. 

Also: My father-in-law introduced me to the wonders of adding whipped egg whites to pancakes. If you're a food texture person, you'll love the way stiff egg whites make pancakes springy and light. It's well worth the sore arm (or extra dishes if you go the electric mixer route).

Chewy Eggnog Pancakes

Adapted from The Commonsense Kitchen

Serves 6 to 7

3 c all-purpose flour

1 T baking powder

1 1/2 tsp baking soda

1 1/2 tsp salt

3-4 T wheat germ

3 eggs at room temperature, yolks and whites separated

4 c eggnog at room temperature

4 tsp butter, melted

oil for cooking the pancakes

Beat the egg whites until soft peaks form. Beat the egg yolks.

Mix together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and wheat germ in a medium bowl. In a large bowl, whisk the egg yolks, eggnog, and melted butter. Add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients until just mixed; gently fold in the egg whites.

Heat a griddle or large cast-iron skillet over medium-high heat. Oil lightly once hot. Drop spoonfuls of batter onto the griddle and let the pancakes cook. When bubbles begin to form, flip and cook on the other side. Press a finger lightly on the pancake to test doneness; if it bounces back, it's ready for action. 

Serve immediately with your favorite toppings -- butter, maple syrup, blueberries, whatever.

Sunday Breakfast: Champagne-Braised Pork Belly and Eggs with Bacon Popcorn

First of all, for some reason, I woke up at 11:15 this morning, completely appalled that I had slept until 11:15 but also extremely angry that B interrupted my dream where I was on a beautiful, warm tropical vacation on some clear water, white sand beach somewhere.

Secondly, I made a tasty experimental breakfast: Champagne-braised pork belly and eggs with bacon popcorn.

I'm not going to pretend that I was out of bed by 11:17 and whipping this breakfast together with random bits from the fridge and pantry. It was around 11:45 when I finally forced myself out of bed. And I actually spent yesterday afternoon braising the pork belly in anticipation of this meal.

I bought popcorn from the bulk section at the corner greengrocer a few months ago for a movie night on the couch that never happened. The bag has been sitting in the fruit basket on the counter ever since. Growing up, my parents used to make popcorn in this funny little vertical hot-air popper that resembled a 1980s space-age grain hopper. It had a cup on the top of it that would melt butter as the popcorn popped; at the end of the popping cycle, you'd take the cup of warm butter and drizzle it on the warm popcorn. I loved loved loved the popcorn bits that would get extra-soaked with butter (excuse me, margarine--this was the late 80s). The ones at the top of the bowl, near the center, where my dad would start the warm-butter pour. Something about the combination of the chewy popped texture on the outside and the crunchy inside kernel, and the fact that there were only a few of these per bowl, made popcorn night so delicious.

So it dawned on me that a fried egg could have the same effect. The gooey yolk, soaked up by the outer warm softness of a piece of popped popcorn. The same crunchy inside kernel.

I was thinking about a good hunk of meat that I could pair the egg-and-popcorn combination with, and pork belly popped into my head. Pork belly is the original bacon gangsta--it's the cut of meat that is cured to make the bacon we all know and love--so it seemed appropriate for a hearty breakfast. Bacon itself can be a little overpowering (and salty) on the flavor front. Working with pork belly would give me more control over the flavor profile of the final dish.

We keep a jar of bacon fat in the back of the fridge for such uses as cupcake filling. I thought it would be fun if I used the OBG (Original Bacon Gangsta), which isn't actually bacon, and then use an actual bacon by-product (bacon fat) in something else, like the popcorn. Get it? I'm totally deconstructing bacon in this dish! Like one of those fancy chefs on TV! A quick Google search informed me that bacon fat was actually used quite often in stovetop popcorn in ye olden days. So, down with margarine. And, those 1950s families really knew how to eat.

I'm not going to give you a recipe for the pork belly braise because it wasn't that great. It was good (what slow-cooked fatty piece of pork isn't?), but not very interesting. Next time, I might try a braise that's a little sweeter to evoke another breakfast staple: maple syrup.

Here's what the final product looked like. I recommend popping the popcorn (1/2 c of kernels + 2 1/2 tbsp of bacon fat), then letting it sit for a few minutes to really soak up the bacony flavor. The eggs need to be over easy so that you can burst the yolk all over the bacony popcorn and let it sop up some more good flavors.

Enjoy! Then take a nice long walk to clear the arteries.



Before.



After. Let the amazingness ensue!

A Marriage of Oatmeal and Cream

I'm probably not the only person in the world who counts heavy whipping cream as one of her guilty pleasures. There are a lot of delicious recipes out there that call for a tiny, tiny bit of heavy cream. I'll gladly buy a half pint of it, use the half tablespoon the recipe calls for, then easily rationalize using it in anything I possibly can.

There it is, a mostly unused half pint of heavy whipping cream, just sitting on the top shelf of the refrigerator. I swear it's seducing me with wanton eyes from its perfectly conspicuous spot next to the can of this morning's cat food.

I can't let it go to waste!

Do you know how good coffee tastes with heavy cream instead of 2% milk or even half-and-half? Oh, god.

Here's another great example: A warm bowl of steel-cut oatmeal. A teaspoon of brown sugar, all melty and crumbly on top. Wrapped in a moat of heavy cream.

Show-Stopping Marscapone French Toast

It's been over a year since my last post--a full year! I don't know what's scarier: The fact that it doesn't actually really feel like a year, or the fact that I've been slacking off for so long and getting away with it. Don't let me do that again.

Since we last spoke (over a year ago, gah!), things have happened. I got a new job. I got engaged. I got married. My best friend had an adorable baby. And, most importantly, I've been making amazing breakfasts.

Like the one I made this morning.

One of the things B and I love more than anything (except each other) is making breakfast together on the weekends. In fact, before B surprised me and proposed to me in May, I was in the middle of planning to surprise-propose to her by popping the question on a Saturday morning, then having our best and closest friends show up for a super-brunch extravaganza. I planned on being at the stove all morning, despite being freshly engaged.

Even though we're already married, I'll probably follow through with my plan someday anyway. We love breakfast (and each other) that much.

As you probably know, one of the best things about weekends is that there are usually always two solid breakfast opportunities. None of that "I woke up 40 minutes before having to leave for work and can only manage a bowl of cereal while I blow-dry my hair" nonsense; these are all-morning affairs with cup after cup of half-caf French press coffee and jazz on the stereo in the background. B and I tend to seize both weekend breakfast opportunities, but always have a show-stopper planned for one of the two days.

I picked up fellow food-blogger (and all-around extraordinary person) Molly Wizenberg's book A Homemade Life earlier this month. After reading the chapter (and corresponding recipe) devoted to French toast, I've been fixated on making French toast for my weekend show-stopper.

And boy, did I. By that I mean, boy, did I make the French toast, and boy, did I stop the show.

This pretty much follows Wizenberg's "Burg's French Toast" recipe, except that I added a couple of game-changing accessories. For example, instead of using any-old "squishy bread with a thin, crisp crust," I used these incredible brioche buns from Bay Bread in South San Francisco, which I think is the mommy bakery for the La Boulange bakeries here in the city. I tend to go with brioche or challah as my French toast bread choice because they for some reason make me feel less weird about whipping up a meal with soggy bread at its center. Also, the marscapone is a slam-the-fist-down-on-the-counter addition.

Hands-Down Marscapone French Toast
Adapted from Molly Wizenberg's "Burg's French Toast"
Serves 2-3

Marscapone Spread (prepare ahead of time)

1 8-oz container of marscapone (Italian cream cheese)
1 tsp confectioners' sugar
1/2 tsp vanilla extract

Combine all ingredients in a mixer or food processor and whip the heck out of them. Set aside. You'll probably have way more than needed to dress the French toast, but that's not a bad thing--you can eat the leftovers with fresh fruit later, when you'll be thanking me for over-estimating the recipe.

French Toast

3 large eggs
1 c whole milk
3/4 tbsp sugar [Wizenberg's recipe calls for a full tablespoon; if you're using brioche bread, I recommend taking it down to 3/4 tbsp since brioche is slightly sweet to begin with]
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/4 tsp salt
Pinch of freshly ground nutmeg
Canola or other flavorless oil (for frying)
6 to 8 slices day-old bread, cut diagonally about 3/4 inch thick--as mentioned, brioche is amazing, as is challah, but you can go with any other "squishy bread with a thin, crisp crust" if you prefer
Pure maple syrup (for serving)

Break the eggs into a wide, shallow bowl or an 8-inch square Pyrex dish. Whisk the eggs to break up the yolks. Add the milk, sugar, vanilla, salt, and nutmeg and whisk again.

Place a large heavy skillet over medium-high heat. Pour in enough oil to completely coat the bottom of the skillet.

When the oil is almost hot enough, put 2 slices of bread into the egg mixture and let them rest for 30 seconds to 1 minute per side. They should feel heavy and thoroughly saturated, but they shouldn't be falling apart. Carefully place slices in the hot skillet; they should sizzle upon contact, and the oil should bubble around the edges.

Cook until the underside of each slice is golden brown, 1 to 2 minutes. Flip and cook until the second side is golden, another 1 to 2 minutes. Remove to a plate lined with paper towel, and allow to sit for a minute or two before serving.

Repeat with the remaining bread. If, at any point, the bread starts to burn before it has a chance to brown nicely, turn the heat back a little. You want to keep it nice and hot, but not smoking.

Serve hot with warmed maple syrup and marscapone spread (spread it over the toast like butter and let it melt into oozy goodness--really!).