The Egg A Day Experiment, Part 4

I got baked this morning.

Actually, this egg was technically shirred. Or broiled. On top of a piece of ham, fresh herbs sprinkled on top. A dusting of Parm and four minutes under the flame. Simple, tasty. Why have I never shirred?

I was thumbing through Mastering the Art of French Cooking in bed last night. Yes, I keep it on my nightstand. Which can lead to some pretty saucy dreams.

Ms. Child does all sorts of interesting things to eggs, including mummifying them in aspic. Doesn't really sound appealing, but I bet it would be good. I came around on aspic while living in Memphis, tomato aspic in particular. Especially with some homemade mayo on top. That's the staple of the Lenten lunches at the Calvary Waffle Shop, a seasonal slice of heaven.

But let's get back to baking eggs. What excited me most about this morning's preparation was the casserole dish I got to use. I bought it in the French Alps years ago. It's designed especially for a potato casserole called La Tartiflette. Which, come to think of it, would be even better with an egg on top.

The Egg A Day Experiment, Part 3

Read how this experiment was hatched, Part 1.

Why do yolks break?

This runny state of affairs has vexed me so often, I gave up frying eggs. Easier to just scramble 'em in the first place.

But I love plopping a perfectly fried egg on top of a piece of toast and then cutting into the yolk, letting the river of yellow flow over the crusty bread. So, I occasional try, try again to fry.

I picked up a dozen eggs at the farmers market on Saturday and thought they would make the perfect candidate to crack into a hot skillet. The plan was to compare an egg from the supermarket and those truly farm fresh eggs. I imagined the eggs from the plucky hens to soar above those inferior supermarket eggs. Guess what? It didn't go that way. Both yolks from the $6 dozen -- yes, SIX BUCKS -- burst as soon as they hit the pan. They looked like a stove top Picasso.

The taste was no great shakes, either. Huge bummer.

I might use the rest to make deviled eggs. I've heard older eggs are the best to devil and I suspect these might not have been moving quickly at $6 a dozen.

So, I called Nancy Nipples, the owner of Pike Place Creamery, and asked: Why do yolks break?

"Honestly, I'm not sure," she said. "But let me ask around."

She called me back and still wasn't certain, though she had lots of interesting conversations about this breaking issue. "Sometimes, farmers market eggs are laid by chickens that don't get fed oyster shells, so their shells are harder. You have to whack 'em a little harder and the shell could puncture the yolk."

Guess what I found out? Ms. Nancy's adorable store is stocking goose eggs right now! They're $2.50 apiece and she says she likes to eat them poached and served on a piece of sourdough. Got to try that!!

The Egg A Day Experiment, Part 2

So, I'm reading the Sunday New York Times and Sam Sifton's writing about hash browns, but also includes a recipe for scrambled eggs with trout caviar. Which might make some people cringe. Egg on egg? I was a skeptic, too, until I had the most sublime dish at the French Laundry.

I was tagging along with a whole lot of wonderful people from Viking and we were getting VIP'd, I knew it from the very start. Our amuse was a hollowed-out shell that had been filled with the most delicate custard and a dollop of caviar. It was pure bliss on mother of pearl spoon. Nobody spoke during those first few bites, just low moans of pleasure. Then we all agreed we had never tasted anything so incredible. At least until the next course. Which I do not recall... but I remember the egg.

Today, I'm making Mother's Bistro French toast for brunch. Without eggs, pain perdure would be milk toast. Which has got to be one of the most vile things ever fed to a person in the name of trying to make them feel better. My grandmother would occasionally use it to try and figure out if we were really sick. "Maybe what you need is some milk toast," Nana said, hands on hips. That would roust us quicker than the threat of a spoonful of castor oil. Another weapon in her get well toolbox.

Back then, she could have also given us the willys by offering to serve us... yup... fish eggs. When we were kids, those were the bright pink salmon eggs my grandfather used to catch trout. They stank. It was that sense memory that stuck in my head, putting me off caviar of any kind until I got hooked on the flying fish roe used on sushi. Thank goodness I turned the corner. So I could fully appreciate the caviar on that lovely November evening in Yountville in the company of Carol and Martha and LeAnne and John T.

Get Crackin'... The Egg A Day Experiment

My grandfather, Guy McMurtry Kelly, ate an egg every day of his life. And he lived to be 97.

I'm not saying there's a connection, but maybe... I was contemplating the power of the egg while reading Michael Ruhlman's Elements of Food, one of the breeziest reference books I've ever picked up. He goes on and on about how much he loves eggs. Their power to enrich and strength, to emulsify and turn oil into mayo or even better, rouille. His words stirred something in me. A new appreciation for the humble orb.

So, what better day to start something new and egg-centric than the dawning of Spring? I know it's been done to death, but I thought I'd do a daily tribute to the egg... until it gets stale. So, LET'S GET CRACKIN'!

When I cook eggs for breakfast, it's almost always scrambled. Because it's so quick and easy. You don't have to fret about breaking the yolk. You can even -- horrors! -- nuke/scramble in the microwave if you're desperate.

But Ruhlman's prose nudged me into poaching territory. He borrows a technique from Harold McGee to poach the perfect egg, cracking it into a ramekin before sliding onto a slotted spoon where the runny stuff drips out. No more ragged edges. This worked pretty well when I made Momofuku's fan-flipping-tastic Shrimp and Grits, but I don't think I'm going to fuss with it at breakfast for myself. Especially if I'm going to gently spoon that egg onto a bowl of grits.

In the photo above, those are Alber's Quick Grits I made according to the directions on the package, adding a little extra water and then finishing them by folding in shredded Drunken Goat cheese and some shaved Parm. And lots of salt and pepper. And, finally, a few dashes of Tabasco's Habenero sauce on top.

I wonder what Papa -- who liked his one fried egg on a piece of dry toast -- would have thought about that presentation.

Would love to hear any other poaching pointers!

Something new to chew on....

This space definitely needs some serious spring cleaning!

It's sad and forlorn and empty of content and character. Because I'm working my tail off trying to make some dough that's why. Since the demise of the print P-I a year ago, my plate is heaped higher than your average all-you-can-eat Spokane buffet.

Naturally, I feel guilty about neglecting W&D and miss the great conversations I've had here over the years. So, I've hatched a plan. I'm not going to say what it is until Saturday, the first day of my favorite season. From that day forward, I pledge to post here once a day for a year. Promise!

Betting on better biscuits

So, sane people start the new year resolved to diet/exercise/quit swearing and such. Every Jan. 1, I take a vow to overcome my flour-phobia.

This year, I've been kneading, baking pies and trying to get my biscuits to raise to cathead heights. So far, I'm not even batting .500! This is typically the spot on the calendar when I throw my head back and scream into the heavens: "Why can't I bake?"

But I will not be deterred this year. I am going to keep practicing until I get it right. And, now, I have even more incentive. I tossed out a biscuit bake-off challenge on Facebook and a couple of friends bit. So, it's on.

I've been using the recipe on the can of baking powder, but I am going to experiment with a couple modifications, including using melted shortening. That's one of the secrets of the best biscuits in the world, at Bryant's in Memphis.

Once I get my biscuit technique nailed down, I'll figure out the particulars of this bake-off. And then ponder: What's best spread on them? Jam? Jelly? Honey? Sorghum, perhaps. Or sausage gravy and a couple of eggs?

Pea-con or Pea-kan?

Made my first-ever pecan pie this weekend and it was mighty tasty. Had a slice straight up, but thinking it could only be better with a scoop of ice cream or a dollop of whipped cream.

Ever since taking a pie-making class, I've been sharpening my dough-making skills. I'm getting there. Even the "mistakes" still taste pretty darned good. Like the lemon meringue that was so close.

There's a recipe in my friend Martha Foose's "Screen Doors and Sweet Tea" book that's up next: Sweet Tea pie! Doesn't that sound like a slice of summer?

What's the most unusual pie to join your recipe rotation?