melbell51

Crabmeat and Cheddar Frittata with Eggwhites

A lot of baking goes down in this house, so it was nothing out of the ordinary when I opened up the fridge the other day and saw a two quart mason jar full of liquidly smooth egg whites staring me in the face. Blame my sister, the master baker.

I of course, in true Stanek family fashion, will stand huddled over a chicken carcass until it’s picked dryer than the desert and was not about to let all these beautiful egg whites go to waste. Enter ingenuity!

Crabmeat and Cheddar Frittata, with Egg whites
Serves 4-6
Two tablespoons butter
Small red onion, diced
Two cans, drained, lump crabmeat, or half of one sixteen ounce package
One cup sharp cheddar cheese, grated
Salt, pepper, and tarragon, about one teaspoon each
Eight to ten egg whites (depending on size of egg and how many mouths to feed)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees and grab your trusty cast iron skillet or other oven-safe saute pan (but really, if you don’t have a cast iron skillet, you aren’t truly living.)

Melt the butter in the pan on medium heat; when melted, add the onion and saute until translucent, about three minutes, then add the crabmeat. It’s already cooked so you want to just warm it through and incorporate the butter and onion flavors. Don’t let it burn or brown too much.

Meanwhile, beat the eggwhites with the salt, pepper, and tarragon. Add the cheddar and incorporate. Pour mixture over the crab and let it set! No touching. Leave it for five to ten minutes, until the bottom and edges are firm. Use this time to assemble a nice green salad for your lovely family. When ready, transfer the pan to the oven for an additional five to ten minutes, until completely cooked through and it doesn’t jiggle when you shake it (jiggling from the cook, however, is encouraged.)

Serve fresh out of the oven or at room temperature (it makes a mean leftover breakfast) with salad or asparagus and toast!

Bread for your frittata…

Don’t Forget Dessert: Yogurt and Egg white Lemon Mousse
4-6 egg whites
One cup yogurt (plain with a teaspoon of vanilla extract mixed in, or simply use vanilla yogurt)
Ten pieces of crystallized ginger, chopped fine (please don’t actually count this…just grab a large handful)
One large whole lemon
About a half a cup of sugar, more or less to taste

Place yogurt in a bowl and zest the lemon over it, the cut it open and juice in both halves, cut side up.

Using an electric mixer (or with a hand whisk if you’re feeling frisky), beat the egg whites on medium. When the volume has increased but the peaks on your beaters are not yet firm, add the sugar. Continue to beak until the peaks on your beaters stand up on their own when turned upright.

Gently fold the eggwhites, in about four batches, into the yogurt mixture, starting from the outside perimeter of the bowl and working your way into the center. Halfway through, fold in the ginger. When all the eggwhites are incorporated, you may eat, or if you have some patience (God bless you), place in the fridge. The liquid may separate, but simply stir it back together, no harm done.

SOOOOOOUUUUUUUP!

Things I’m doing a lot of these days:
-Organizing bookshelves and refrigerator magnets.
-Zumba.
-Reading My Aunt Joyce’s book, which I recommend to everyone.
-Making SOOOOUUUUUUUUUP!

The early wonders of fall are all around us. Even though, in typical Midsouth stubborn fashion, the temperature is still in the lower to mid eighties and the sun is golden bright, mother nature is forging ahead as the trees begin to change from luscious green to burnt auburn and deep clay red. I love this time of year. It’s like being in my own personal Claude Monet painting, all the time.

This is more like a Cezanne I suppose, but still, acorn squash are works of art all on their own.

When the contents of my refrigerator begin to overwhelm me, I turn to soup. Now that I think about it, when anything overwhelms me, I pretty much turn to soup. You really can’t go wrong there. Big, bubbly bowls of comfort come in many forms, from my favorite gooey French Onion (oh, the wheels are turning…) to creamy smooth Carrot Ginger bisque (like from CharcoalBYOB–if you’re every in East PA, GO!), but, as my friend Mark Bittman likes to say, any soup is only good as its stock.

This, plus a chicken, is all you need for a piping hot bowl of love:

Carrot, Celery, Onion, Parsley, and Bay Leaf that I forgot about…

Place vegetables, raw whole chicken, and fourteen cups of water in a large stock pot. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a strong simmer until the chicken is completely cooked through. Add salt and pepper. Take the chicken out and shred to make chicken salad or ten thousand different chicken stir fries. Strain the stock thoroughly, discard the vegetables, and store in the freezer or refrigerator, or boil down to half the original volume to save space and concentrate the flavor.

Picturebook #1

View from the Philadelphia Museum of Art, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; taken with Iphone 3; edited with Iphoto

Second National Bank, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; taken with Iphone 3

Fuji Apples, New Jersey; taken with Iphone 3; edited with Iphoto

Princeton, New Jersey; taken with Iphone 3; edited with Iphoto

Chapel, Princeton, New Jersey; taken with Iphone 3; edited with Iphoto

Memory Eternal

I’m not quite sure where to start today, though I know I want to share my thoughts, so I will just start writing, as is the purpose of this blog.

I was ten years old on September 11, 2001. I’m ashamed to admit that as of September 10, 2001, I had no never heard of the World Trade Centers (though I had seen them briefly, blurred with the rest of the New York City skyline, three years earlier in a car). Even as a ten year old, I lived a bubble, a place that I like to remain from time to time. So when my fifth grade teacher announced to us that the Twin Towers had been hit, I gasped because my classmates gasped. I can’t even remember what happened prior to that announcement, but shortly after, I was with my sister in the breezeway, waiting for our father to come and take us home. I do remember we had to pull over on the way home, because we were having car trouble.

I don’t think I really ever fully grasped the horror of that day. We had family up north, but none in Manhattan. My grandparents, former Brooklynites, now resided in Bal Harbor, Florida–though that Christmas when we visited, I noticed the memorial statues and framed newspaper clippings. My grandfather, a retired military man and metal worker, spent many years working on those buildings.

The memory of that time that is most vivid to me, however, is the first time we went to church after the Attacks–it may have even been that night, though I cannot be sure. Whatever day it was, we stood far in the back because the pews were so full. The feeling that had pervaded me since that Tuesday was a fear so intense and frustrating, because “how could God allow this to happen?” No one knew why. But, gazing out over a sea of bowed heads, I knew I was not alone.

The weeks and months that followed are hazy, like many of my childhood memories are becoming. We started selling red, white, and blue bracelets; there were American flags in every classroom and in front of every house. We wrote letters to the firefighters and police officers. We sent teddy bears to the children of victims of the Attacks. I learned new words, like “terrorist” and “suicide bomber”–words that a ten year old should never have to comprehend.

September 11 became “Patriot Day.” Each year we dressed in red, white, and blue, took moments of silence throughout the school day, and shared memories. Gradually, the nation began to heal. People who had banded together with such conviction went back to being strangers, churches trickled down in size, and daily niceties became inconvenient once more. I stopped going to church. Like so many other foreword thinkers, God became an inconvenience.

I am certainly the last person to ask about religion, and would sooner be struck by lightning before I could preach to others about how to live a Christian life, but, whether by serendipity or by grace, I was in Church this morning, and I heard some things that I really needed to hear. The priest shared his memories of that day, recalling how, in the midst of a secular workplace, he suddenly found himself praying with hundreds of strangers, now brothers and sisters in a time of turmoil . “Churches were packed” he said, as he looked out at the empty row of chairs in front of him. There was no judgement in his eyes (I used to think Christianity was all about judgement), but there was a sadness to his sermon, a sadness at the state of things now, ten years later, and how much of that pain and suffering is forgotten. Not among the victims of that day, or those who gave their lives; they are heros and saints, and may their memories always remain. But the pain and suffering of those of us who lived past September 11, 2001 is quickly becoming a distant memory. The current state of our government, divided and petty, resonates harshly with the state of our collective consciousness, focused on greed, salary, social status, material wealth and degradation of others (reality TV, much?) I strongly doubt that anyone on this day ten years ago would have stolen a cab, hit a friend, sold someone out for personal gain, et cetera et cetera. Because on this day ten years ago, through the gravest phenomenon, we were all reminded how to live in this world. We were jolted by the reality of death, and all of a sudden holding open a door or giving up a bus seat seemed so much more important than holding our own place in line. And we found the time to talk to God. I know what it is like to feel that God has abandoned you, but oddly enough, on that day, and this morning in Church, he seemed closer to me than he has in years.

It’s a big stretch, but I’ll risk and say it: what if His plan was to shock us? If it hadn’t have happened, would we have gotten the message? It took an earth swelling flood to reach us the first time, and it took a crucifixion to reach us the second. Like I said, I cannot preach, and I mean not to, but if we only turn to God when terror triumphs, surely he must be around to see us all the other days, even when we don’t acknowledge him.

Just a thought.