Monthly Archives: December 2012

4 Reasons Why You Need This Quiche In Your Life

Or, 4 Reasons Why Sunday Brunch Is the Best Part of My Week

quiche

1. Onions

Normally I despise onions. Raw onions are disturbingly crispy and taste like I’m having the inside of my mouth bleached. Cooked onions remind me of slimy translucent worms. Plus I hate chopping them because of course my eyes are THE MOST REACTIVE POSSIBLE to onion fumes. The burning! The tears! I even kept swim goggles in the kitchen junk drawer to wear when I made guacamole (I mean, you can’t skip the onion in guac, even if you don’t love it). But things have changed, y’all. I feel like the Grinch when his heart grew three sizes. Because onions are the best thing about this quiche. I first tasted it at an office party, thought to myself “ye gods! this is the most beautiful and joyous thing I’ve ever masticated,” stalked my colleague until she emailed me her recipe, and then felt my heart sink when I saw that it called for 1 large onion. Eeep. But I conquered my fear, threw an onion into the food processor so I didn’t have a quiche full of large oniony chunks, and never looked back. The flavor is…well…I have no words. Just try it (recipe below).

2. Butter

So the aforementioned onions are sauteed in an entire stick of butter until everything gets brown and awesome. Yes, an entire stick. Don’t skimp. This mellows out the onions, adds a sweetish, nutty flavor, and makes the egg mixture lovely and smooth and silky.

3. Cream

YES IT HAS CREAM TOO. Who are you, Jillian Michaels? Just climb off your treadmill and make the quiche. Life is too short to not taste its buttery-creamy-oniony magicalness.

4. Mimosas

If you spend an hour in the kitchen slaving over this masterpiece of a quiche, then by gum, you deserve some booze to go with it. Splash together some OJ and cheap champagne, maybe put the football game on TV, and you’re in business.

SUE’S QUICHE 
(thank you Sue, I love you forever)
2 frozen pie crusts, deep dish (or make your own if you’re super fancy)
4-5 eggs
3 cups shredded cheese of your choice
1 large or 2 medium onions
1 tbsp minced garlic
1 stick butter
1/2 cup half-and-half
salt & pepper
meat and veggie ingredients of your choice (see below; generally you want about 1 lb. of protein and 1 cup cooked veggies)

1. Preheat oven to 350.
2. Put onions and garlic in food processor and pulse till finely diced. Melt butter over medium heat, add onion mix, and saute for 10-15 minutes. Cool slightly.
3. Poke holes in your crusts with a fork and partially bake for 7-9 minutes.
4. Mix eggs and half-and-half in large bowl till well-blended. Add onion/garlic/butter mixture and salt and pepper to taste. Stir in 2 cups of cheese, your meat and veggies, and pour into pre-baked crusts. Sprinkle remaining cheese on top.
5. Brush crusts with eggwash (beaten egg plus a splash of water or milk) if you like a nice golden brown look. Bake for 45-55 minutes till egg mixture no longer jiggles. Enjoy!

Quiche Flavor Possibilities
These are just a few ideas, but there are infinite possibilities using these and other ingredients. Southwest quiche! BLT quiche! Broccoli cheddar quiche! Use your imagination and go wild.

Bacon, Mushroom, & Tomato
Cook 1 package bacon on a baking sheet in 400 degree oven, then crumble or layer in bottom of crust; saute 2 cups mushrooms in butter till browned; finely dice 1 Roma tomato.

Steak & Mushroom
Cook 1 ribeye steak to your preference, slice thinly and layer in bottom of crust; saute 2 cups mushrooms in butter till browned.

Chicken & Spinach
Boil 5 chicken tenderloins and chop fine; microwave box of frozen spinach for 6 minutes, use half; Parmesan cheese goes nicely with these flavors.

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3 Reasons Why I Should Keep A Stack Of Thrift-Store Plates On Hand For Smashing

Or, 3 Reasons Why I Sometimes Consider Visiting a Firing Range

1. Bad calls.

There are many injustices in this crazy world, but few can inspire the bitter outrage of blown calls. The stakes of these games can be so high—and yet the outcome can literally rest in the hands of one ass-clown official. I nearly lost my mind in October when the Braves were knocked out of the playoffs after the single most idiotic call in the history of everything. That was Chipper’s last game, y’all. His one chance to play for another World Series before his retirement. And this man ruined it.

Sam Holbrook stole the Braves’ crucial momentum by making a ludicrous infield fly call. (Yes, I know Chipper made a bad throw and allowed some runs earlier in the game, but the BASES WERE LOADED people.) We had a very real shot at turning the game around until this potato-faced cretin decided to show everyone he has goat dung for brains.

I actually cried tears of helpless rage in front of Buffalo Wild Wings’ entire clientele when this happened. Two months later, I’m still deeply wroth. I still have a picture of this son of Satan on my fridge with some particularly vulgar decorations of my own addition. Incidents like these tend to, erm, rankle a bit if I can’t find an outlet for my ire.

2. Humanity.

Every day, the general public finds a way to steal a little bit more of my sanity. I don’t know why I continue to place so much stock in common courtesy when my expectations get repeatedly bitch-slapped, but I do. I can’t help it. I keep hoping that people will be as considerate of me as I am of them. I don’t block the aisle with my buggy. I don’t stop suddenly in a crowded public place or walk backwards without looking. I don’t force other motorists to absorb shock waves from my stereo. When I worked in food service, I didn’t just stare blankly at people when they came up to the counter. I always say thank you when someone holds the door. I use my blinker and go a constant speed on the highway (for the love of God, cruise control!). Sometimes I even roll out extra paper towels for the person washing their hands after me in the ladies’ restroom. And what do I get for my pains? Oblivious dolts impeding my path in every public place ever. Sullen trolls behind every register and food counter. Some fool blasting his bass loud enough to jiggle my internal organs at every stoplight. By the time I make it home from outings amongst the populace, I’m just one giant raw nerve. Curse you all, you pack of mouth-breathing pig-eyed savages.

beer

3. Cat hair.

Look, I love my cats. They are the joy of my old age (did I mention I turn 30 next month? guess I’ll be getting my AARP invite soon) and the light of my life. But THEIR HAIR. Y’all. It’s everywhere. I dust. I vacuum. I dust some more. I clean the wads of fur out of the poor choked Roomba every ten minutes. I scrape the furniture with this doodad. I brush the cats (when they let me).

This is how Piglet looks when I come near her with the brush.

This is how Piglet looks when I come near her with the brush.

The cleaning of cat hair never ends. And yet, when the sun is shining just right through the window, I can see kilos of fecking cat hair floating in the atmosphere. I sit down on a chair and a cloud of the stuff explodes around me. I go to a restaurant and find cat hair in my food. From my own clothes. Aaaaauuuughhhhhghhh.

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