People should not fear their government
Sep. 15th, 2006 07:55 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
quisletHave you ever had a perfect food? One where the ingredients are no longer individually present, but have merged to make something wholly new? One where the magic is in the quality of the ingredients and the simplicity of the preparation?
Vodka and cranberry juice can do that, as can a reuben that has been made with love and attention. My most recent discovery in this small world of perfect foods is Toad in the Hole. Toad in the Hole isn't new, far from it, it is a classic known throughout the English-speaking world. My own epiphany about the perfectness of this food is what is new.
Food doesn't often get elevated to the status of "character" or "plot point" in a motion picture, but Toad in the Hole features prominently in the recent dystopic V for Vendetta. Hugo was marvelous, as was Natalie (was there any doubt?), but the surprise performance came from
If you haven't had the privelege, Toad in the Hole is somewhere between a fried egg and a grilled cheese sandwich without the cheese. You start with a heavy frying pan, something that will distribute heat evenly. Get it warming over medium heat, wait patiently for a reasonable temperature, and then slide in a pat of butter.
Feel free to improvise, but it's hard to beat the taste and beauty of butter.
While the butter melts, and before it starts to smell nutty, take a slice of sandwich bread and cut a hole out of the middle. This is a Mama Bear sort of thing, so play with it until you find that "just right" sized hole. I have a tiny New York novelty coffee mug that cuts the perfect hole. It should be a little less than twice the size of an egg yolk. The perfect hole lets your egg nestle inside without oozing out on top of the bread too much.
Slide the butter around in the pan for even coating, then place your perforated bread in the pan. Into this awaiting vacancy, crack a single egg, leaving the yolk unmolested. Here is where the creative license comes in. I like my eggs over easy, and the convenient frame of butter-grilled toast sops a yolk beautifully. I wouldn't take the yolk past medium-well, or it gets too dense and conflicts with the lightness of the toast and the white.
When your egg tells you it's time to flip, I recommend lifting your as-yet-unborn Toad in the Hole from the pan with a spatula, sliding in another pat of butter, and then gently flipping the one-sided toast ensemble back into the pan to finish. I had been using my hard-won egg-flipping skills to do this, but the bottom of the egg gets too well-done before the top is solid enough to flip by hand. The Toad in the Hole is ready when the bottom reaches GBD (golden brown & delicious), which is why you need that second pat of butter.
If you're going to season this in the pan, I suggest keeping it simple. This food carries itself with little or no help, but I'll go as far as a little microplane-grated parmesan or gouda on either side, maybe some seasoned salt. I'd add some fresh-ground pepper, but only after flipping, because the pepper will burn in the butter, and that's not Good Eats.
The leftover toad-holes are popular with fraggles, especially if fried up in another pat of butter and sprinkled with cheese shavings. Saffron and #2 split them in my house.
I've tried taking this in a sandwich direction, but to no avail. I do think, however, that a rarebit or florentine cheese sauce would go nicely over a pair of Toads in the Hole. A fat slice of heirloom tomato and vinegared salad greens on top would make a nice salad. A simpler presentation would be a hit of Tabasco or Worchestershire.
(Juno, I know this is a breakfasty food, but I've made it for dinner before, so I figured it was fair...)
Vodka and cranberry juice can do that, as can a reuben that has been made with love and attention. My most recent discovery in this small world of perfect foods is Toad in the Hole. Toad in the Hole isn't new, far from it, it is a classic known throughout the English-speaking world. My own epiphany about the perfectness of this food is what is new.
Food doesn't often get elevated to the status of "character" or "plot point" in a motion picture, but Toad in the Hole features prominently in the recent dystopic V for Vendetta. Hugo was marvelous, as was Natalie (was there any doubt?), but the surprise performance came from
If you haven't had the privelege, Toad in the Hole is somewhere between a fried egg and a grilled cheese sandwich without the cheese. You start with a heavy frying pan, something that will distribute heat evenly. Get it warming over medium heat, wait patiently for a reasonable temperature, and then slide in a pat of butter.
Feel free to improvise, but it's hard to beat the taste and beauty of butter.
While the butter melts, and before it starts to smell nutty, take a slice of sandwich bread and cut a hole out of the middle. This is a Mama Bear sort of thing, so play with it until you find that "just right" sized hole. I have a tiny New York novelty coffee mug that cuts the perfect hole. It should be a little less than twice the size of an egg yolk. The perfect hole lets your egg nestle inside without oozing out on top of the bread too much.
Slide the butter around in the pan for even coating, then place your perforated bread in the pan. Into this awaiting vacancy, crack a single egg, leaving the yolk unmolested. Here is where the creative license comes in. I like my eggs over easy, and the convenient frame of butter-grilled toast sops a yolk beautifully. I wouldn't take the yolk past medium-well, or it gets too dense and conflicts with the lightness of the toast and the white.
When your egg tells you it's time to flip, I recommend lifting your as-yet-unborn Toad in the Hole from the pan with a spatula, sliding in another pat of butter, and then gently flipping the one-sided toast ensemble back into the pan to finish. I had been using my hard-won egg-flipping skills to do this, but the bottom of the egg gets too well-done before the top is solid enough to flip by hand. The Toad in the Hole is ready when the bottom reaches GBD (golden brown & delicious), which is why you need that second pat of butter.
If you're going to season this in the pan, I suggest keeping it simple. This food carries itself with little or no help, but I'll go as far as a little microplane-grated parmesan or gouda on either side, maybe some seasoned salt. I'd add some fresh-ground pepper, but only after flipping, because the pepper will burn in the butter, and that's not Good Eats.
The leftover toad-holes are popular with fraggles, especially if fried up in another pat of butter and sprinkled with cheese shavings. Saffron and #2 split them in my house.
I've tried taking this in a sandwich direction, but to no avail. I do think, however, that a rarebit or florentine cheese sauce would go nicely over a pair of Toads in the Hole. A fat slice of heirloom tomato and vinegared salad greens on top would make a nice salad. A simpler presentation would be a hit of Tabasco or Worchestershire.
(Juno, I know this is a breakfasty food, but I've made it for dinner before, so I figured it was fair...)
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Date: 2006-09-15 01:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-15 07:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-15 03:01 pm (UTC)Fromage fort.
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Date: 2006-09-15 07:02 pm (UTC)I got to try that one out on a new victim recently. I can safely say that it made her "weak in the knees," and that there was moaning involved. :-) The rest of the people sitting around the table were a little disturbed.
no subject
Date: 2006-09-15 08:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-15 11:18 pm (UTC)We just got all silly giggly to see her with her new love in life. :-)
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Date: 2006-09-16 02:50 am (UTC)Remind me to have you try some of my cooking sometime.
no subject
Date: 2006-09-28 09:26 pm (UTC)