Egg, sundried tomato, a bit of pesto,
and a hidden slice of bacon
Yes, more eggs. I am not a rabid egg fan like Michael Ruhlman, who loves eggs so much he helped design his own Badass Perforated Spoon for poached eggs (his name, not mine). Still, no student can deny the utility of eggs. Did you know you can use your muffin tin (regular sized, not miniature, as for the mini quiche recipe) to prepare a week's worth of breakfast sandwiches? I can't take credit for making this batch, though I enjoyed the fruits of the labor.
On a different note, if you ever make it out to Elite for weekend dim sum, know that your long wait outside on rust-covered seats will be rewarded (or punished?) with piles of food that no single person can conquer.
And for a very un-Michael Ruhlman take on eggs, read on:
The horror of eggs for breakfast started a good hour or more before getting to the table. It started the second I woke on a Sunday morning to the smell of wet bacon spitting in the charred black frying pan and the sharp sting of grilled tomatoes coming up the stairs. By lying in bed until I heard his footsteps on the treads I could work myself up into a right state, so that by the time I was told put your dressing gown on, I've made you some breakfast I would be feeling ill, queasy, angry, frustrated, sick all at the same time. By the time I had come down the stairs one by one I had worked myself up into one of my notorious bilious attacks.
Nigel Slater, Toast
