Crabby Deviled Eggs

In my house, if there are hard-cooked eggs on the counter, there are soon to be deviled eggs.

Although I really didn't know what to call this version. Crab-Laced Deviled Eggs? Sounds wrong. I sort of like the current title--as if the eggs were fussy, perhaps from being deviled. Maybe Crabby Bedeviled Eggs? I don't know. If you can think up a better recipe title, let me know. All I know is that we had these last week when some friends were over and those little deviled egg halves were scarfed down in no time.

Anyway, without further ado (unless you can come up with a better name). . . .

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Swiss Chard Frittata

Time is not my friend. No, not the changing seasons. Instead, I'm a week away from finishing our next book. Wait until you hear all about it: Lobsters Scream When You Boil Them and 100 Other Cooking Myths. Bruce and I actually wrote it together--although now I'm in the heavy-editing phase. And if I do say so myself, it's drop-dead hysterical.

It'll be out late next year, sometime after the first-ever, all-goat book. Whew. And we just finished a deal to write a our own cookbook under the COOKING LIGHT brand--a complete guide on how to be a "quick cook."

Plus, we're working on two chapters for a weight watchers book. Plus, we have a big article due to Cooking Light magazine in a couple of weeks.

Needless to say, I'm frazzled. Which is one of the many reasons a meal like this is so great.

Eggs are fantastic. Don't you love them?

One of my favorite dinners? Scrambled eggs, a vinegary salad of crunchy greens, a couple of pieces of whole-grain toast, and a glass (or two!) of red wine. Now that's living!

This week, Bruce whipped up a frittata one evening when we'd both been crazed with other things. It sure it the spot! The whole technique is found in COOKING KNOW-HOW, our technique guide to a host of dishes (available here). But I thought I'd share this one here. It was a keeper. It'll make four servings.

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Almond Semolina Cake

And I mean really old-fashioned. Because Bruce found this recipe in a cookbook originally printed in the 1880s. He had to adapt it a bit--especially the amounts (anyone for "two pennies and a half of semolina flour"?)--but this light, fantastically-moist cake is an incredibly puddling-like affair, pretty straightforward, but rich and satisfying. Best of all, there's breakfast involved. Twice. You'll see.

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Cup Custards

Egg yolks are small miracles: so perky, so bright, such a tight pack of nutrition.

And so very fragile. Chickens raised in industrial farms, the birds that don't have room to turn around, the ones whose beaks are snipped to keep them from destroying each other in their nervous frenzy--those chickens produce icky eggs. In fact, their yolks are not yellow. They're mostly gray. Because the chickens don't eat their usual nutrient rich diet of seeds, grubs, and insects.

Never had a gray yolk? That's because the chickens are also fed dye to make their yolks yellow.

Hardly real food, I'd say. Mostly fake.

Which is too bad. Because inferior, gray, tasteless yolks deprive us all of the best cup custards. Which are one of life's better treasures (and easier desserts).

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Carbonara

You'd think I'd be done with pork after HAM: AN OBSESSION WITH THE HINDQUARTER. But you'd be wrong. I'm hardly done with it. Because pork is always good. Always.

One of my favorite quick meals is pasta alla carbonara. Not the nasty cream sauce you get in most joints. Blech. The cream ruins everything. (And I promise never to say a word against you again, my overlord cream.)

Real pasta alla carbonara is utterly creamless. It's also usually made with guanciale, or smoked pig's jowl. We happen to have one left in the freezer from Wilbur, our own pig. But we've also been known to use 1) bacon, 2) turkey bacon, 3) Canadian bacon, or 4) soy bacon (horrors!).

I've even seen some recipes--authentic Italian ones at that--that call for pancetta. Frankly, I prefer the taste of a smoked meat. Maybe it's that bacon-and-eggs thing.

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Frisée aux Lardons

Fancy name for a bacon and poached egg salad, no? Frankly, it's one of my favorite dinners, a go-to treat with a glass of red wine. I'll admit this: I'm not one for an egg at breakfast. I don't know: an egg is probably too serious. Maybe if I were milking cows. . . . But that's not going to happen. (As Bruce would say, "Not with that attitude.")

So here's our twosome serving of this French salad:

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