Archive for April 2008
Finally a picture.
So, here’s the story: Sean and I buy the three cheese frozen pizzas from Trader Joe’s. Not the two or the four cheese ones. Those are gross. Last time Adam (my brother) came to visit, we did a taste test, and the three cheese pizza was the definite winner. We use the cheese pizzas as a base for any toppings we want. They’re so much simpler than making our own pizza dough, especially for those nights when we’ve had too many beers at the brewery and we just need a quick dinner before we pass out on the couch with the dogs. (We do make our own dough sometimes too, but that’s usually reserved for not so drunk nights.)
So, what you do to make pizza eggs is cut a few pieces of bacon up, and fry them in a pan. Then arrange them on a frozen pizza, so that there are four openings for eggs to fit in.
We cook the pizzas in our toaster oven, because it’s much easier to heat up than the big oven. I set the heat to 450 which is as high as our oven will go. Cook the pizza and bacon for five minutes. Then take the pizza out and crack an egg into each hole. Be careful not to let eggs run all over the place. I broke one of the yolks, which sort of sucked, so it would probably be better to crack the eggs into ramekins first to ensure that you don’t have broken yolks.
Put the pizza back in the oven to bake until the whites are set on the eggs. Don’t judge us because the oven is dirty. I bet yours is too.
Here the eggs are almost set.
Give the pizza a little shake when the eggs look done. If they’re too wobbly let them cook a little more until the whites are set.
In the meantime, I made a little salad of arugula and finely shaved onion, that I dressed with lemon juice, olive oil, and salt and pepper.
Open yourself a bottle of wine. In the interest of full disclosure, we had already had too many beers at this point, and the wine was a bad idea. Also, this is a bad picture of some really damn fine wine.
When your pizza’s done take it out and sprinkle it with some salt and pepper. You could have done that earlier when you first put the eggs on the pizza, but I forgot.
Slice the pizza, and then toss your greens with the dressing, and pile them on top of the pizza.
Be sure not to trip over any dogs on the way to the table.
It would have been more delicious if I didn’t overcook the eggs, and the oozy yolk had drizzled everywhere, but maybe next time I’ll get it right. It probably would have been tasty too to grate some fresh Parmesan over the top of the pizza, but I already told you I was too drunk to remember to do that.
This was a really good dinner. You should try it.
I’ve been talking about pizza eggs for a while. I could hear the doubt in Sean’s voice every time I brought it up, but I was convinced they would be a masterpiece.
Lo and behold: I was right. Just like always.
I kid. I’m just right sometimes, but I’m really happiest when my food hunches turn out to be extra delicious.
See evidence below:
Or not. I can’t seem to figure out how to upload pictures.
I’ll be back.
Our weekend didn’t exactly go as planned.
Friday night: I have no recollection of what we did after we drank Mojitos. I want to say we went to the brewery, but I don’t believe we did. But, we may have eaten lasagna. It’s shocking. I know.
Saturday: We got up an watched qualifying for F1. F1 is the shit. You should start watching it, and making fun of Fernando Alonso like we do around here. He may be Spanish, but that doesn’t me we have to like him. He’s an asshole, but his Renault car did well in qualifying. Just not as well as my favorite Finn, The Ice Man, Kimi Raikkonen. I love when he wins, and gets up on the podium, and even though he just kicked major ass he says shit like “Yeah. It was alright. We did good. It was a good day.” Super straight faced. Never excited. Almost like a zombie. I love that guy.
After that we went to the Farmer’s Market and bought some spinach and beets. They’re still sitting in the fridge.
Then we went and had good Mexican food at Lo Mejor de Michoacan. They’re only good on the weekends though.
Then we worked on the front yard. I caught my shoelace on a rake, and fell down and scraped my arm. This is also, I’m sure, shocking to all of you who know what a clumsy fool I am. There’s a star tattoo on my inner left wrist though, and now it looks like a shooting star. Only in blood and a little off-kilter. It’s sorta cool.
Then we cleaned up and went to the brewery. Yum. We were chatting with Jesse, one of the girls that works in the tasting room, and Chris, another guy who works there, grabbed us our beers without Jesse knowing it. So, Jesse walked over and we happily accepted another White Opal (a seasonal white beer) We were totally double-fisted. Which is awesome.
Stacy also called to tell me that she had to make her own cupcakes on her birthday. And that she was wasted. I totes understand about the cupcakes though. I hate when someone else fucks up my birthday dessert.
Then we ate brats and a couscous salad. The salad tasted far too healthy with the decadent brats covered in mustard, sauerkraut and jalapenos.
And then we did not sleep because it was hot as Hell here on Saturday, and someone may have had some gas from too much sauerkraut. Sean said it was Frank, but it may have been me.
Sunday: We watched the Spanish GP. Kimi won and was every bit as unscintillating as one would expect. There was about ten scary minutes when Heikki Kovalainen crashed his McLaren into the tire barrier, and Speed didn’t show his status. I thought for sure he had to be dead, and had a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. Luckily, he just suffered some bumps and bruises, but he wants to race in Turkey in two weeks.
Then Sean worked on the yard, which made me cranky because we had already spent one day working on the yard, and that was enough for me.
So, we went to the grocery and bought another round of brats. They were that good. And, I made a potato salad. This potato salad. It felt sufficiently unhealthy enough to eat with sausage. I also made some Pizza Bianca, but the dough was a little troubling because the recipe was originally printed out wrong. I eventually got it right, but I seriously charred the first pizza in the oven. Like super black. I think that’s the first time in my life I’ve ever torched something so badly. Luckily, the mojitos Sean made took to edge out of my abject failure.
The neighbors came over for dinner and drinks. They’re two Cal Poly professors, and we like them a lot. Very absent-minded professory, but fun.
I guess my point in all this is to say: I didn’t get any chile verde, and there were no pictures taken. I keep forgetting.
Tonight we’re having burgers, and more potato salad. Maybe I’ll remember to use my camera.
We’ve now switched to drinking mojitos. I have several reasons for this decision. Let me list them off for you:
1. There was some Mojito Mix from Trader Joe’s on top of the fridge that’s been there since last summer.
2. There is a shitload of mint growing in the garden, and though it smells good, I never can find a reason to use it.
3. I was bored.
4. There was cold rum in the freezer.
5. We’re borderline alcoholics.
Just kidding Mom!
Anyway, the mojitos make it feel like Summertime up in this joint. And now I’m thinking about Will Smith. And now Tom Cruise. And now Posh Beckham is making me feel fat.
I blame the mint. And my boyfriend’s ex. (She’s my default villain in every scenario. I hate her on principal, but on many principals that I will get into later, but not now. My brother’s ex was my previous default villain. They’re pretty similar actually. Again, we can talk about that later. And, also, by default villain I mean these are the people who are villains in my nightmares at night. I know worse people, but my subconscious only lets me dream of slightly hateful people.)
I think I had a point in telling you about the mojitos. One that didn’t lead to me being an alcoholic. Don’t judge; it’s the weekend. I don’t remember that point so let me end with this: mojitos are delicious FTW!
Which means it’s three in the afternoon, and I’m already drinking beer.
Firestone Double Barrel Ale. One of my all time faves. Along with Firestone Union Jack IPA and Firestone Pale.
Did I mention that we live down the street (like a mile away!) from my favorite brewery in the whole world? Several times a week we wander down there to have a fresh pint of the Velvet Merkin, a nitro charged oatmeal stout, or some of the Reserve.
Yeah, it’s a rough fucking life here.
Also, I should mention that there are over 200 wineries in the area, and some make the best wine on earth. I am not exaggerating this time.
Anyway, because of the beer I have officially sworn off the water for the weekend, and I probably won’t be cooking anything for dinner. So, I’ll catch up with you guys on the flip side. Meaning tomorrow. Ed note: I don’t even know what the flip side means.
We’re both still feeling full from last night’s Mexistravaganza. I’m pretty sure they made those tacos out of lead dressed up to resemble carnitas.
But, on the bright side, it’s Friday morning. I love Fridays as much as I loathe Mondays. Which makes absolutely no sense because I don’t even have a job, and pretty much every day is like Sunday to me. Anyway, Fridays are a great day to start drinking early, and start planning extravagant meals that I want to make over the weekend. Also, to drink a little water because I have a strict no water policy on weekends. That shit will kill your buzz.
With this lead gut it’s hard to decide what I want to make this weekend, but I’m pretty sure it’s going to be Mexican. Sounds counterintuitive, right? It’s not really. I just have to make up for all the sucktitude of the Mexi restaurants by making something truly delicious. And by me making something truly delicious, I mean I’d like my boyfriend to make me chile verde. I’ll totally help though. And I’ll totally give you guys the recipe. And take some pics. And your mouths will water.
I gotta go drink some water and have some lasagna. Maybe more food will help the already troubling situation in my belly.
I didn’t feel like cooking tonight, or having leftover lasagna, so we went out for Mexican food.
I get a little pissed off about the Mexican here in town because it’s so hit or miss, and srsly WTF is so hard about making some freaking tacos?
The tacos were OK, but not great. The beer was Dos Equis Amber. It was cold and delicious. So that was nice.
I ate too much though, which is typical for me when eating out, and I’m probably going to have gas later.
At least 30 Rock is on tonight.