Perhaps the Best Breakfast Ever

Not going to lie, but I think I may have discovered the greatest breakfast ever.  Follow me, if you will...

You need:
one English muffin
one egg
one sprig of green onion, chopped
one slice of Spam
one butterknifing of Vegemite
a touch of salt and pepper

Simply put, drop a dab of butter into a skillet on MED-HI and drop in the green onions first, keeping them to one side.  Drop on the slice of Spam, then after a minute drop an egg over the onions.  Pop down your English muffin in the toaster, flip egg and spam, then once the muffin pops apply Vegemite.  Cut spam and egg in half with spatula and top muffin halves with bit a of each and a sprinkling of your favorite cheese and perhaps fresh slice of tomato (if handily available).  However bold the breakfast, it would be incomplete without a pot of coffee and a side of Greek yoghurt.

And enjoy.

Spamworthy Split Pea Soup

1 hour to prepare; amply serves 2

1 box Streit's split pea soup mix (or similar substance)
4 cups water
1/2 cup Spam, cubed
1/2 onion, 1/2 sweet potato, likewise chopped
pepper, herb d'Provence, 2 cloves garlic, etc
1/2 cup mushroom and 1 tomato, chopped

Begin boiling the water on the stove, as per the Streit's directions.  Once boiling, add the peas, garlic, sweet potatoes, and onion to the pot; cover and simmer on a LO heat.  Set your timer for one hour (total), bearing in mind the various steps during the cooking process.  Viz, add the Spam after thirty minutes; add the mushroom, tomato, and flavourant after forty-five.  At the hour mark the soup should be ready to eat!
Easy, eh?  But no split pea soup would quite be complete without a complimentary carbo to accompany it.  Having neither crackers nor corn meal (for some grade-A cornbread) on hand I've decided to resurrect my Quick-fix Zam Curry Bread.  When the soup is at the half-hour mark add to a bowl:

3/4 or 1 full cup of flour
a dash of salt
an ample dusting of baking powder
a tsp of curry powder and a dusting of chili powder
a dribbling of oil

Mix all this together with a butter knife and add some water from the tap; not a lot, now!  In marginal increments add to and mix the floury mixture until it becomes a nearly doughy (moist but still floury in texture) mixture.  Knead it into a ball with your hands and let it sit in the bowl for ten or fifteen minutes.  Heat up a skillet with a light covering of oil (like a home-infused garlic olive oil, for instance) and pressing the dough ball flat, fry on MED or MED-HI until browned a bit on either end.  Should be about ready as the soup finishes up, perfect for a spicy sop.

And viola!  A meal fit for a soup kitcheny king.

(Compliment with a fragrant glass of ouzo.)

A Week in the Life of My Stomach

So late last night I had this lekker idea, stemming from the notion that people modify their behavior when on film and coupled with the by-gone zeal for self-experimentation that marked my college days[i].  Starting today {through Sunday} I intend to take a picture of everything I put into my body.  Think of it as an answer to the question “what did you eat!?”[ii]  The subtext to this is that, holding account of myself later on, I might be more likely to balance my meals to a photogenic nutritious sheen.  Insidious, no?  At the very least, it makes for an interesting activity!

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[i] Including but not limited to such topics as ‘sleep deprivation,’ 'parallel universes,' ‘metabolization of {insert substance},’ and ‘the great flatulence archive.’

[ii] To paraphrase the initial reaction to our public unveiling of the aforementioned flatulence archive.  Imagine mixed shock and disdain, if you will.

Scroungy Pasta Surprise

So I was rooting around in the fridge in search of a proper lunch, but I'll be damned if there was much of anything.  What we did have turned out to be the makings of a fine sauce...


Preparation time:  about ten minutes
Serves:  two human beings or one hungry bachelor
Pairing:  white wine or light beer

What you require:
{imagination, foremost}
half of an onion
three baby bella mushrooms {or tinned equivalent}
two cloves garlic
an old roma tomato
a handful of spaghetti {mottling with yellow age in the cupboard, no doubt}
a semi-used container of alfredo sauce {the variety of which is unimportant}
a spice cabinet and olive oil

Directions:  start boiling a mid-sized pot half-filled with water {with a glob of oil and dash of salt in the mix} and begin chopping your veg.  I try to get four or five fair-sized slices out of each baby bella; chop the onion and tomato as you prefer.  Mash one clove of the garlic with your kitchen knife.  Heat a small skillet with some oil {I start on HIGH} and drop in your onion and mashed garlic as the pot meanwhile nears boiling temperature.  I like to add fennel seed at this point, if you've got it.  There should be one or two minutes of HIGH-frying before you need to add your pasta to the pot, at which point turn the skillet down to a MED setting.  Add mushrooms {to the pan} and let fry on one side, then the other; cook until they are tender and slightly browned, and add your tomato and a dash of Italian herb {every kitchen has it}.  Check your pasta to make sure it is not clumped together at the bottom of the pot.  If it tends to clump {i.e. fuse together in an inedible collection} you may need to either add more oil or stir on occasion in future.  When the noodles are limp, but not quite done {gritty to taste} add your sauce to the skillet and any necessary pepper or seasonings you may further require, and turn down to MED-LOW.  Once your pasta is done-and-drained, crush and add your remaining garlic clove with a little oil, salt, herb, and black pepper, {all to taste as before} and mix well.  Serve up on plates or perhaps bowls {depending on how much sauce you've made}, adding said sauce last.  It being an alfredo, no parmesan should be necessary.  And revel in your culinary salvage!