Tag Archives: breakfast

Matzoh brei

Matzoh brei: looks terrible, tastes delicious.

Matzoh brei: looks terrible, tastes delicious.

This, my friends, is matzoh brei. Specifically, it is matzoh brei that Marc made for me this morning. Matzoh brei looks horrible and tastes delicious, and is perhaps the only Passover food I like more than rest-of-the-year food. Essentially, it’s moistened matzoh that’s then fried with an egg. It’s wonderfulness embodied. You should have some. Mmm… matzoh brei…


Amish baked oatmeal

Recently, I’ve been getting a little bored with my usual breakfast of a bowl of oatmeal or some toast with butter and jam. So when I discovered this recipe for Amish baked oatmeal on food.com, I decided to give it a try.

The only changes I made to the recipe — on the suggestion of some other commenters — was cutting the butter down to 1/4 cup from 1/3 cup, and cutting the sugar down to a heaping 2/3 cup instead of 3/4 cup. (Frankly, a heaping 2/3 cup may actually be 3/4 cup, but never mind…) For the spices, I used 1/2 tsp cinnamon and 1/2 tsp nutmeg. I even prepared it last night and let it sit in the fridge and everything.

In the end, it was… nice. Sadly, nothing special. It’s the sort of meal I’d be perfectly happy to have someone serve me if I went over for breakfast, and it does taste better than just a regular bowl of microwaved oatmeal. That said, I’m not sure it’s worth the hassle, the 50-minute wait time while it bakes, or the hefty calorie count (408 calories per serving, and I’m pretty sure I had at least a serving and a half).

I’ve got enough for leftovers for tomorrow and maybe even the next day, and I’ll happily eat them. But once it’s done, I probably won’t be making this again.


Due to circumstances beyond our control, Marc and I suddenly found ourselves this morning with an unexpected free day. So we did what any good-thinking couple would do with a whole lazy day stretched out ahead of them, we made pancakes. We used this recipe and added a tsp of vanilla (I love vanilla). We don’t have a sifter, so we whisked it instead.

Final verdict: oh, so tasty. Definitely a keeper.

In fairness to my regular reader who are no doubt wondering “where’s the monstrous calamity that usually accompanies Julie’s adventures in cooking posts?”, I say that Marc did all the actual pancake cooking. If it were me, there would no doubt have been a groan-inducing anecdote right around now. Wait for it. There’s always next time.

Microwaved oatmeal

I can hear my long-term readers groaning from here. “Microwaved oatmeal is probably the easiest breakfast food known to man! How on earth could Julie have possibly screwed this one up?”

But, you see, that’s why I’m special. I mean, anyone can have their soufflĂ© collapse, but it takes a special sort of skill to destroy microwaved oatmeal.

The directions read: empty contents of packet into microwave-safe bowl. Ad 2/3 cups water. Microwave on high for 1-2 minutes. Stir. Eat.

I did all that. Put it in the microwave for 1.5 minutes, figuring I’d take the average. Completely forgot that my microwave is at the “super-powerful, will-roast-birds-a-mile-distant” range.

Came back to discover that my oatmeal had exploded and there was more outside the bowl than inside. On the upside, I was smart and used a cover. On the downside, my breakfast was much diminished (and very firm) by the time I finished cleaning everything up and got to, y’know, eat it.

Now go, and be grateful for whatever small cooking talents you have. They’ve gotta be better than mine.

Eggs in a basket

I have often mentioned that I can screw up the simplest of recipes. Today, I once again proved it.

Eggs in a basket must be one of the simplest recipes known to man: take a piece of bread, cut out the middle, butter both sides of the remainder, and put it in a pan. Turn on the stove, crack an egg into the centre, wait. After a while, flip it over. Wait some more. Take it out of the pan. Consume.

“How on earth could you screw this up?,” you might ask. You obviously haven’t known me long enough.

As I buttered the bread, I thought to myself, “Self, the bread’s already buttered. That’s grease. That means, logically, that I don’t need to grease the pan.” I shall now wait for the even-moderately-experienced cooks on my list to slap their foreheads and stare in awe at their screens, boggling at my stupidity. Go on; I’ll wait.

What will be obvious to them (but not, at the time, to me) was that the egg, the one I was going to be cracking into the pan, was not buttered.

The good news is that I managed to save both the pan and my dinner, though admittedly the bread was a bit burned and the kitchen a bit smoky for a few minutes.

Let it never be said I don’t bring entertainment into all your lives.