{"id":1625,"date":"2006-09-05T00:15:00","date_gmt":"2006-09-05T00:15:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/elitemporaryblog.wordpress.com\/2006\/09\/05\/9-am-sunday-baked-eggs-and-bacon"},"modified":"2015-09-24T03:54:03","modified_gmt":"2015-09-24T03:54:03","slug":"9-am-sunday-baked-eggs-and-bacon","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/orangette.net\/2006\/09\/9-am-sunday-baked-eggs-and-bacon\/","title":{"rendered":"9 am Sunday: baked eggs and bacon"},"content":{"rendered":"
The call came last Thursday.<\/p>\n
\u201cMolly.\u201d Rebecca said sternly. \u201cSunday morning. Jimmy<\/a>\u2019s.\u201d I wasn\u2019t sure if this was a command or a question. \u201cHe\u2019s doing baked eggs. Don\u2019t eat after three o\u2019clock on Saturday.\u201d<\/p>\n In only a few words, there it was: the return of the Jimmy<\/strong>.<\/p>\n You\u2019d better believe, though, that when the call did come, Brandon and I wasted no time in getting to Jimmy\u2019s. While we did <\/em>get off the elevator on the wrong floor and pace the hallway for a few minutes, wondering why none of the doors were emitting the usual bacon-scented tractor beam<\/strong>, when we finally reached the right floor and the right door, oh, we were ready<\/em>.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I stabbed at the yolk with my fork, and it split into the soft, spongy whites with a rush of yellow. The melted cheese wove a fine web over the top and down into the egg, where it wound delicately around the tines when I scooped up a bite. It was almost cloudlike\u2014but then it was creamy too<\/strong>, swallowing with the soothing, milky tang of cr\u00e8me fra\u00eeche. My only regret, having quickly scraped my ramekin clean, was that I didn\u2019t drag at least one of the potatoes through the saucy, yolky stuff at the bottom. But I swallowed my remorse with a few bites of bacon, whose sweet-hot burn made a tasty distraction\u2014tasty <\/span>enough, in fact, to tide me over until the next call.<\/p>\n Oeufs \u00e0 la Cantalienne Rather than the Cantal<\/a> cheese called for here, Jimmy used Beaufort<\/a>, and although that might technically make these oeufs \u00e0 la Beaufortienne<\/em>, we found the substitution more than acceptable. In fact, so far as I could tell, every single speck of these beauties was gobbled up. Jimmy served them in individual ramekins, but Gourmet<\/em>\u2019s recipe indicates that you could also use a single 9\u201d-by-13\u201d baking dish, which would make this easy recipe even simpler.<\/p>\n<\/a>
Longtime readers of this site will remember Jimmy, my former employer Rebecca\u2019s gay husband and the crowned king of Sunday mornings, the man whose bold<\/a>, fearless<\/a> conquests<\/a> of the kitchen have clogged<\/a> many an artery, spawned Dutch babies<\/a> across the land, and won countless full-bellied followers. For a while there, I had the honor of spending nearly one Sunday out of four in Jimmy\u2019s petite, astoundingly productive kitchen, and astounded I was by the quantities of fat, sugar, and cream that fell upon my plate. It was delightful; it was delicious; it was completely immoderate<\/strong>. I loved those mornings, but in all honesty, I feared them a little too. So when a few months passed without a call from Rebecca, I was sad, but I took it as a sign that my waistline and I were supposed to stay at home, where the milk is (mostly) nonfat and the chocolate stays in the cabinet until well after noon.<\/p>\n<\/a>There was a skillet of potatoes on the stove, browning slowly in butter with a dice of bell pepper. Rebecca, wearing a Caf\u00e9 du Monde apron and a Band-Aid on her thumb\u2014\u201cJimmy made me grate the cheese,\u201d she explained cheerfully\u2014poured mimosas and stirred the potatoes.
<\/a>Jimmy stood at the counter with three small sheet pans of bacon and a bowl of sugar, cayenne, and black pepper, which he spooned atop the slices before sliding them into the oven, where they began to slowly sizzle and crisp, turning a gorgeous shade of shiny, burnished red.<\/p>\n
<\/a>
Then he prepared the eggs. I have had baked eggs in many incarnations, but I had never seen any like these. The whites were seasoned and whipped separately, so that they formed a frothy nest in which to place the yolk<\/strong>. A dollop of cr\u00e8me fra\u00eeche sat on top like a cap, along with a few feathery shreds of the Cantal cheese that gives this dish its elegant name: oeufs \u00e0 la Cantalienne<\/em>. Once in the oven, the whites puffed around the yolk like a rumpled lace collar, and the whole thing went airy and golden, like a sort of deconstructed souffl\u00e9<\/strong>.<\/p>\n<\/a>
It was eggs, bacon, and hash browns, but served up Jimmy-style: on oblong Fiestaware plates, and at 9 am.<\/p>\n
<\/strong>Gourmet<\/em>, September 2006<\/p>\n