3 posts tagged “breakfast”
A while ago, I attended another Mexican cooking demonstration at La Margarita. This time, the theme was Mexican breakfast dishes. It was well attended; I think the class was supposed to be capped at twelve but I seem to have snuck in as number thirteen. We started with Mexican hot chocolate this time; no margaritas.
Next, Pedro and his assistant Javier prepared Huevos Rancheros for us, including a from-scratch sauce made of roasted chiles and other delights:
Side dishes were really good authentic frijoles, and Green Chilaquiles. The beans were just simmered with some chopped onion; my beans are never this good! His were meltingly tender and soft. I think I have been buying old beans. Chilaquiles are just stale tortillas, cut in strips, fried, and tossed in a sauce. I think of them as a sort of Mexican pasta dish. Pedro made his sauce of tomatillos and mild green chiles; the dish was topped with sour cream, rings of mild raw onion, and Mexican cheese (in this case, queso anejo "old cheese", much like a Parmesan).
Again, it was all delicious. I didn't save any to take home to Mike but ate it all myself. Now if I could come up with just the right occasion for a Mexican brunch, and the right adventurous people to eat it!
Everyone has their own interests. When the weather gets nice, my husband spends more time out on his recumbent trike. Me, I spend more time in the garden, trying to get things shipshape before the grass pollen hits and I am trapped inside.
Today was the first large organized group cycling event of the season, the Monster Cookie Metric Century. So Michael, Katr, and a couple other friends went out and rode their tails off. I got up to fix them all breakfast: slow-cooked oat porridge with all the trimmings, bacon, toasted English muffins, and such. It's always a good day when I get to cook for my friends and/or family.
After they rode off (and Michael will have pics and footage up eventually on his various sites), I took pics of the cats out on the porch in the spring sunlight.
Then at some point, I heard unmistakable feline retching sounds. My other cats are quiet about it; when they vomit, I might not know about it until I find the dried-up result days late. But Simber is noisy. He sounds like a drunken human, or perhaps something mechanical. At Christmas back in 1996, ten months after the flood that permanently rearranged our house, my brother was sleeping on the living room futon when Simber decided to york up a middle-of-the-night hairball. My brother jumped up, in his underwear, and started shouting for me; he apparently thought it was the sump-pump blowing up. We were all still a little jumpy about such things.
So, I heard Simber barf loudly, and I groaned, knowing I would have a mess to clean up in the morning. Some undetermined amount of time later, I heard another series of sounds: frantic rummaging in the litter box, then a couple of yowls, then some more retching (longer and louder than before), followed by a series of small thumps across the floor. In some state between asleep and fully awake, I filed the sounds away for later consideration.
Eventually my endless, restless night was over; I got up and headed for the bathroom. At the top of the stairs, a pile of half-digested cat food (and a large hairball) awaited. The litter box, down below on the landing, displayed several large Simber-sized turds. Interested in spite of myself, I proceeded into the dining room, where I found one remaining lone turd with visible tufts of orange fur attached. One more pile of cat barf awaited me, in the communal cat food dish.
Simber was perched on the loveseat, looking unconcerned. The other cats were milling about, looking (I swear) disgusted. I dealt with the worst of the mess (with occasional gags) and hopped into the shower.
In the shower, I put it all together. Long-haired constipated cat, with hairballs in the stomach as well as further downstream, goes to eat at food dish. Throws it all up because there's No Room At The Inn. Realizes that he is in big trouble at both ends. Runs to litter box, yowls while pooping like this. Vomits at the top of the stairs from all of the pressure. Then notices giant turd stuck to his little kitty behind and thinks that the Poop Monster is chasing him. Runs around house, thumping butt on the floor until he manages to dislodge it. Returns, exhausted and triumphant, to couch.
Cleaning up the mess before my shower was smart; I'd more or less gotten my appetite back by then.
Ski Lodge Oat Porridge
I don't usually cook this at home, unless I have house-guests, but it's wonderful for a cabin full of sleepy people who need some oaty goodness in the morning. You have to start it the night before, but it's ready in the morning with no further work. And it's so hot here this week that just thinking about being up in the mountains with snow makes me feel a little bit better.
There is no substitute for good steel cut oats. Don't even think of substituting the regular rolled kind, or you will have a pot of library paste.
1 cup Bob's Red Mill Steel Cut Oats
3 cups water
Dash of salt
Combine all ingredients in vintage orange Crock-Pot. Cook on "low" overnight. Serve in the morning with cream, brown sugar, cinnamon, raisins, and pecans. If you like, substitute milk for part of the water. I have also cooked this in apple cider with wonderful results. This is loaded with fiber, good for those with hairballs.
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