A little more kitchen sink, please!


Oh, my. James made SUCH  a delicious dinner tonight. I wish I had gotten a photo. And no way is there a recipe. He told me to watch out while eating because there still might be bits of the kitchen sink in there.

To my knowledge, the stew contained the following:

  • Leftover kalua pig
  • Okra
  • Tomatoes
  • Salsa
  • Black olives
  • Olive oil
  • Onions

And who knows what else.

Anyway, it was DELICIOUS, both plain and on tortilla chips.

I am a lucky woman.

OPMF: Shredded Wheat and Eggs

Who’s up for a really weird and really delicious breakfast?

Shredded wheat and eggs, and a mandarin orange

[OPMF: Other People’s Mom Food]

I’m home! After two weeks of loving-but-hard bedside duty for a beloved family member who has died, I am in my own home, making my own food for myself and James.

My first thought for breakfast was shredded wheat and eggs. Weird, I know, but hear me out, because if you like toast and eggs, or matzo brei, I think you’ll like this. In fact, when James first described it to me, I thought it was more of a brei-like thing, and I made it all wrong the first time. Kind of like shredded-wheat pancakes. This is a different thing altogether.

James doesn’t know where this food came from originally, but he grew up with it, and when we were new, he showed me how to make it. It’s become, hands down, my favorite breakfast.

First, crumble up two of those big shredded-wheat bricks per person into a bowl. James likes to use Barbara’s brand, because they’re round, so there are no sharp corners to ruin the texture of the thing. Add a pat of butter to the shredded wheat and set it aside (sometimes I obviate the need for the pat of butter by cooking the eggs in extra butter and pouring that over in the mixing step). Next, cook two eggs per person over-easy (or to your liking). Then place the eggs on top of the shredded wheat and use a fork to mash, mash, mash everything together. The yolk will coat the shredded wheat, and the little bits of cooked egg white will stud the whole mixture. Salt and pepper to taste, and you’re done.

Now, I’m not going to argue with you when you say it’s weird, but taste it. It may surprise you, as it did me.

OPMF: Creamed Peas on Toast

Peas, cream sauce, and buttered toast. How could that be bad?

[“OPMF” = Other People’s Mom Food]

Creamed peas on toast

Creamed peas on toast is not something we ate at my house. Creamed peas, yes, but not on toast.  It’s one of James’s Mom Food memories, though, so we do have it once in a while around here.  I love it, but then you could put cream sauce on a Tinkertoy and I’d probably love it.

Creamed peas on toast

Do you already know how to make a basic white sauce? You probably do, but I’ll tell you at the end of this post anyway.  Well, anyway, when I want cream sauce for vegetables, I make a basic white sauce, but when I’m melting the butter, I put some chopped onion in the pot with it.  You can do that if you want, or just leave the onions out, but onions are so very rarely an unwelcome addition to food around here.

Once you’ve made the cream sauce, the only thing left is to toss in some frozen peas (NOT canned, pretty-please, or you’ll make the baby Jesus cry) and cook and stir until the peas are heated through. Then serve it on buttered toast points.

Easy peasy. So to speak.

Basic White Sauce

I make medium white sauce as my basic cream sauce, but you may like yours thinner or thicker, so here are the proportions for all three:

Thin White Sauce:

1 tablespoon butter
1 tablespoon flour
salt & pepper
1 cup of milk, heated if you think of it

Medium White Sauce:

2 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons flour
salt & pepper
1 cup of milk, heated if you think of it

Thick White Sauce:

3 tablespoons butter
3 tablespoons flour
salt & pepper
1 cup of milk, heated if you think of it

Melt the butter over medium heat and add the flour, salt, and pepper.  Cook and stir 30-60 seconds.  Whisk in the milk and stir constantly until thickened.  Voila! White sauce.