Champion Nostalgia-Hounds, that is.
Yesterday morning, She Who Must Be Obeyed and I were casting about for Something To Eat. SWMBO decided to go the Beefy Route, so she pan-fried up a humongous Kosher Dinner Frank - split and quartered for quick cooking.
I decided to go the nostalgia route, with a beloved dish from my childhood: Eggs and Onions.
I cannot partake of Eggs and Onions without thinking of my Grandma Shirley of blessèd memory. On those occasions when she and Grandpa Jack would come out from Brooklyn and spend the weekend with us on the Island (that’s Long Island, for all y’all non-New Yorkers), she would frequently cook up a pan of scrambled eggs with onions for me. It was one of my favorite breakfasts - not only because it tasted good, but because it was made with a Grandma’s Love. And the only time I had it was when my grandmother would make it.
For my own Eggs and Onions, I followed Grandma’s basic procedure, with a few latter-day fillips.
I started with a nice-size Vidalia onion. These babies are mild enough to eat out of hand (unless you’re like SWMBO, for whom raw onion of any stripe is pure projectile-vomiting anathema), and they happen to be in season. My Minyan buddy Richard, an actual Child of Vidalia, gave me a sack of ’em the other day, so I was ready to rock and roll.
I sliced the onion up into medium-thick slices - thin is good, too - and threw them in a skillet that was well-greased with a couple of tablespoons of melted butter. I cooked them down over a medium flame until they were soft and golden brown. You want that nice caramelization, and it doesn’t hurt if they get good and dark, as long as they don’t burn.
Caramelizing the onions, the first step.
As the onions cooked, I cracked three eggs into a bowl and added a couple tablespoons of half-and-half and a bit of freshly ground black pepper, then beat the mixture with a fork until well-blended.
When the onions were good and brown, I dumped the eggs into the skillet and pushed the whole mess around until the eggs were done the way I like ’em - a little on the dry side.
Then, out onto a plate with a liberal sprinkling of freshly-chopped Italian parsley and a few twists of the pepper mill. For a little extra pizzazz, I threw on a little Basque red pepper (piment d’espelette), which complements the black pepper flavor-wise, and adds a nice color note.
There you have it - a breakfast that not only tastes good, but - for me, at least - brings back warm memories of very special weekend mornings, long ago.