What's For Breakfast, Mom?

When you’re a kid, it’s easy. Mom (or Dad) makes breakfast, for most people. But once you’re out of the house? Or say Mom and Dad, rushing to work or sleeping because they work at night, can’t make breakfast for you—what then? Or say you’re little Ruth Reichl and you know Mom’s concoctions could be dangerous? What do you do?

You might reach for your favorite bowl, a nearby box of cereal, and pour some milk over it. Or you might improvise. Once you’re grown, you can improvise in all kinds of ways. You can eat whatever you want and call it breakfast.

Heresy, you say? Actually, it’s tradition. There have been all kinds of breakfasts over the years. The word we use today didn’t even come into use until the 15^th century, says Wikipedia. And if you enjoy eggs at dinnertime you’ve got plenty of historical company, since that’s when the first meal of the day was eaten, for Brits, until the 13^th century. But ancient Egyptian working people ate in the morning—and what a meal!  Beer, bread, and onions.

You say you can’t eat anything in the morning? Call yourself an “Aquinian” (wait till your friends hear that one). Thomas Aquinas is said to have viewed eating early as a sin, suggestive of other “appetites”—like drinking. Better to have an empty stomach and pure thoughts.

Might have worked for him, but not me. If I don’t have breakfast I get crabby. And just like you, I’m busy and don’t have time for anything elaborate. I often have “Laynie’s Morning Miracle” http://cookwithlaynie.blogspot.com/2009/04/its-all-about-ed-and-mollie.html on hand to heat up; when I don’t, I reach for some muesli, soaking it while I get dressed. I’d found some in the store, but they were either too sweet (I lived for Sugar Frosted Flakes in my shorter days, but these days I’d rather have that sugar in pastry or gelato, thanks) or just not all that interesting. So one fine day I made this, and I’ve been creating variations on it ever since. I pull the latest version out of the fridge and while I’m getting dressed it is communing with some milk. 

Don’t tell Thomas.

“Mama’s Muesli” (About four 1/3 cup servings)

1 cup rolled oats (I use the thinner ones; if you want to use thick ones, soak the muesli overnight)

1/3 cup rye flakes

2 tablespoons sliced almonds, toasted

1 tablespoon toasted pistachios, chopped

1 tablespoon sunflower seeds

1 teaspoon sesame seeds, toasted (required; they give this an amazing flavor)

½ teaspoon ground hempseeds

¼ teaspoon flaxseeds

¼ teaspoon dark flaxseed meal (you can also just choose one, but I like the texture of the whole ones so I use both)
2 dates (I love Cire from Flying Disc Ranch [at the Ferry Plaza market on Saturdays and maybe at the Berkeley one at Shattuck and Vine on Thursdays], black dates, when Michael has them at the Crocker Galleria market, and also his dry dates like Kway and Thorry; you can also use Deglet or Medjool)

1 tablespoon raisins (I like Thompson)
1 heaping teaspoon cinnamon 

Pinch of salt

Combine everything in a bowl, and keep in a container in the fridge. When you're ready for breakfast, scoop 1/3 cup out of the container and put it in your favorite bowl, then pour milk over it (I like reduced fat milk—not as thin as skim—but almond might be great, too), do something for a few minutes while everybody gets acquainted, and enjoy!

“So many ingredients!  Who has time in the morning?”

Ah, but that’s the beauty of it. That’s not when you make this. You make it when you come home from work or from a show or you’ve got something on your mind and you’re not tired enough to go to sleep yet.* Consider it a gift you give yourself for the morning.

*If you don’t want to make everything in one night, make it a two-step process. Maybe tonight you chop the dates, toast the nuts and seeds, and put all of the above in a bag with the raisins. Tomorrow night you add the flaxseed meal, oats, and rye flakes, stir, put a scoop in a jar with milk of your choice to cover, and presto! When you wake up, breakfast is served.

P. S. This is so much simpler than those problems you’ve been solving all day long. Plus, nobody’s looking over your shoulder. Why not put on some music and make yourself something delicious? 

 ©2018 Laynie Tzena. All Rights Reserved.

Sardines a la Monday, or Don’t Sweat the Small Fish

Once upon a time, I made the mistake of trying to persuade a fellow I was dating to rethink something. Girls, don’t try this at home. Or out. Or in the car.

Important news bulletin; please sit down: Men do not like being told what to do.

Well, no one does, right? But where a woman will tell you--and men, you can attest to this--just exactly what you did in 1992 that so troubled her, men do not do that. They simply go back to that planet they come from.

My friend David, rest in peace, once told me that when he was annoyed at someone and the person would call him to suggest a get-together, “I think, ‘No, I don’t want to have lunch with you. I want to kill you slowly.’ But what I say is, ‘Gosh, I’d love to, but I’m just real busy.’”

Men keep you guessing.

When I dated Prince Food Chain, I didn’t know what I know now. Because now I am old. I am 212 years old, but I am well-preserved because I ate so much herring in my formative years. (Which are still going on. Pass the herring, wouldya?)

The Prince made a point of saying that he didn’t eat small fish because they were eaten by large fish. (Or was it that he didn't eat large fish because they ate small fish? Once you get south of 100 years, memory fades--except for that guy in seventh grade.)

Now, one might think that every self-respecting fish probably had its eye on something smaller when it came to dinner. One might eat chicken, too. He didn't, and he wouldn't--I think it was the bones--though he said he didn't mind if I did. Luckily, bread and wine presented not a single problem. Holy communion, Batman! We were also soulmates when it came to dessert.

“Why are men so strange?” I sometimes ask my brother, as I tell him the latest.

“We feel the same way about you,” he replies.

Other news you can use: Borage flowers showed up at Heirloom Organics at the Ferry Plaza Farmers’ Market last week. They look like something from outer space (always a good sign, unless lights are flashing and you are being motioned toward a vehicle--in which case, it's your call). I took one taste and said, “I’m going to use this with fish.” Dave smiled. “Anchovies,” I said, “or maybe sardines.” He said, “I put it on pasta.” That sounds good, too. Hey, I’d eat this pesto off my boyfriend’s arm--as long as the boyfriend in question wasn’t Prince Food Chain. No, the Prince wouldn’t have liked this sandwich at all. So if you see him, don’t mention it.

Sardines a la Monday:

½ can sardines in spring water
2 slices sprouted rye bread

For the pesto:

Handful borage flowers (or use thyme)
1 stalk green garlic
1 stalk green shallot (or use a small shallot and some chives or the green part of a scallion)
Juice and zest of ½ lemon
2 anchovies
Drizzle really good extra virgin olive oil (I used LA)
Healthy sprinkle of fresh-ground black pepper

Pound the green garlic a bit, then chop with green shallot and borage flowers. Add the lemon juice and zest and the anchovies. Blend in the food processor. Drizzle in olive oil, add pepper, and taste.

Spread pesto on one slice of bread, place a couple of sardines on the other, combine, and enjoy. Tonight that sandwich had some great company: asparagus and fresh orange bergamot mint tea.

©2011, 2015 Laynie Tzena.

Have It Your Way

Dear Love at First Bite:

You must be joking. You're not serious about putting $35/lb. pine nuts in that salad, are you? Yes, it's delicious--mesclun lettuce, Fuji apples, a balsamic vinaigrette, goat cheese. But it's January, honey. How about something a little less pricey?

The Penny-Pincher

Dear Penny:

Happy New Year. Honey, promise me you didn't leave your imagination under the bed again.

Now, we could reflect on some simple facts:

a. The salad in question requires merely two tablespoons of pine nuts (which translates to a bit more than two bucks, especially if you comparison-shop).

b. That coffee you're so fond of puts the pine nut prices to shame.

c. Life is short.

But why spoil the fun? Instead, let's look at the basics of the ingredients in the original salad from the dinner party: lettuce, apples (well, sweet and slighly crunchy fruit), nuts, a vinaigrette. Let's leave out the cheese for now.

As we know, the key to eating well without spending a fortune is--say it with me--a well-stocked pantry. See "What a Little Minneola Can Do, Part Three," then try this:

Healthy, Wealthy, and Wise Salad:

For the salad:

1 Arkansas Black apple or Bosc pear
2 tablespoons raw cashews
Mesclun lettuce

For the dressing:

2 teaspoons toasted sesame oil
1 teaspoon sherry vinegar
Smidgen stoneground mustard
Pinch grated ginger
Pinch tangerine zest

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. On a baking sheet, toast raw cashers until slightly darkened.

Slice apple or pear, divide slices in four.

Why four?

Because they look like little pieces of pie. Feel free to slice, chop, dice--it's your salad, Toots.

Rinse greens and place in bowl with sliced apple or pear. Whisk together dressing ingredients and add to apples and greens, toss, add toasted cashews, toss again, and serve.

Very nice. But that's not the same salad.

Fine. Here's a closer approximation.

Healthy, Wealthy, and Wise Salad #2:

For the salad:

1 D'Anjou pear (or, if you prefer, a Fuji apple)
2 tablespoons raw walnuts
Mesclun lettuce

For the dressing:

2 teaspoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon balsamic vinegar
Smidgen Dijon mustard
Pinch fresh or dried basil
Pinch orange zest

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. On a baking sheet, toast raw walnuts until slightly darkened.

Slice pear.

Rinse greens and place in bowl with sliced pears. Whisk together dressing ingredients and add to pear and greens, toss, add toasted walnuts, toss again, and serve.

Spread some chevre on your favorite bread and start the year.


©2011, 2012, 2013. 2014 Laynie Tzena.

Fungus Among Us

I suppose you could buy mushrooms from other people than the Garrone family. I just don't know why you would, unless you live in New York, or Chicago. And even then, I'm pretty sure they ship.

I first met John Garrone of Far West Fungi over 20 years ago, when I moved to San Francisco and happened on the Civic Center market. John told me recently that it was somewhere else at the time, around the corner or something. But I remember him at pretty much the same location he is now, not far from the escalator to the underground I was probably taking to work. Maybe I was on lunch hour.

It's not just the mushrooms, although Far West Fungi probably has everything you could ever want in that department. It's the absolute friendliness--not the kind of "Fly Me!" friendliness we see a lot of these days, but the kind that comes from an obvious love of people--with which John greets everyone.

I can't remember ever not loving mushrooms. Even the canned ones. I know: They have that weird texture, they smell funny, and if you put an open can and a fork in front of me I would probably finish the can before you came back.

When I was in high school the local wing of the French National Honor Society flew to the place where people really speak the language. We did the French equivalent of what Europeans come to see in these parts. Here, it's Las Vegas, Yosemite, the Grand Canyon, San Francisco, and maybe Monterey. There, it's the Eiffel Tower, the Loire Valley, Mont St. Michel, and Montmartre, where everyone visits a church called Le Sacré Coeur.

I remember two things from that trip: the castles in the Loire Valley, and lunch after we went to church: Coq au Vin aux Champignons.

To the other kids champignon was just a long way of saying mushroom. And mushrooms, they agreed, were gross. Did I really want them?

I thought I had died and gone to heaven.

John Garrone has very good manners, so you have to look closely to see him rolling his eyes as he hears me tell yet another customer about the Miso-Soba Soup from The Book of Miso. John's interest in miso soup ia on a par with his interest in Brussels sprouts.

Someone once asked him, "What do you like to do with Brussels sprouts?"

"Personally, I throw them out," he said.

Miso Soup with Buckwheat Noodles and Eggs

(adapted from The Book of Miso by Aikiko Aoyagi and William Shurtleff)

2 teaspoons sesame oil

1 small onion, thinly sliced or 1/2 bunch scallions, cut in long strips

1 zucchini, sliced into half coins

3-4 large or 6-8 small shiitaké mushrooms, sliced

1/2 cup water, stock, or dashi

2 oz. soba (buckwheat) noodles, broken into 4-inch lengths and cooked*

1 tablespoon red, barley, or hatcho miso (the original says 3T but that's overkill, to me)

2 eggs

1 tablespoon minced parsley (optional)

Heat your favorite soup pan and coat with oil. Add the onion and sauté until transparent, then add mushrooms and cook until just shy of being done. Follow with the zucchini, also cooked till almost done. Next, add water and bring to a boil, then the cooked noodles and return to the boil. Place the miso in a bowl and add some of the hot liquid, whisk to combine, and return to the soup. Now increase the heat to medium-high and carefully break in the eggs, keeping the yolks whole. Cook for 1 minute more, or until the whites are just firm. Serve immediately, garnished with parsley.

This is like French onion soup meets poached eggs meets mushrooms and noodles. It should be illegal.

*There are rituals for cooking soba noodles. You cook them partway, put them into very cold water, drain them, cook them some more, back in the cold water, drain again, cook them some more--and then go out and shoot yourself because they are still not perfect.

If you have all that time on your hands, let me just say that Honey, do I have filing for you. If not, I say just cook them, deliver them to their winter vacation, drain them, and then add them to the soup at the proper time.

If anyone complains, my cooking instructions are as follows:
Don't invite them again.

But what if they live with you?
Then you already know what to do.

©2009-2014 Laynie Tzena.