A couple of days ago, Mary baked some of her amazing bread, and she promised one of the finished products to Kathryn and Elizabeth, our daughters. While we were driving over to Powell's on Hawthorne, where Elizabeth works, to drop off a loaf, an interesting conversation arose. Mary had begun to think aloud about dinner, wondering what she might make.
"What about huevos rancheros?" I suggested. "We haven't had that in a long time." Now, huevos rancheros, to my simplistic cooking mind, is an easy dish. Grab a tortilla, throw on some black beans, maybe a little salsa, top with a fried egg, and you’re done. I offered this, never actually having cooked it.
“What do you have in mind by huevos rancheros?” she asked. I described to her my vision of same, surprised that the real thing might be something different. “That isn’t exactly huevos rancheros,” she said.
This was getting a little out of my cooking depth, which is roughly comparable to a puddle on a street. But I plunged ahead. “So how would you describe huevos rancheros?”
“Well, what you described sounds like Wackety Eggs.” This was a reference back to our restaurant days in the ‘80s and early ‘90s. In our cafe, called Pywacket’s, we served a dish called Wackety Eggs, which was a big hit with everyone, including me, although apparently I wasn’t paying much attention to what was going on under the runny eggs.
“Huevos rancheros,” she continued, “has some other things in it, usually a homemade sauce of some sort, and there are different ways to make it. You know, it’s really interesting that you should suggest huevos rancheros, because this month’s issue of Bon Appetit has several recipes for egg-type Mexican dishes.”
"So," I said, feeling a little full of myself, "I guess that means I'm on the cutting edge of cooking these days."
"What about huevos rancheros?" I suggested. "We haven't had that in a long time." Now, huevos rancheros, to my simplistic cooking mind, is an easy dish. Grab a tortilla, throw on some black beans, maybe a little salsa, top with a fried egg, and you’re done. I offered this, never actually having cooked it.
“What do you have in mind by huevos rancheros?” she asked. I described to her my vision of same, surprised that the real thing might be something different. “That isn’t exactly huevos rancheros,” she said.
This was getting a little out of my cooking depth, which is roughly comparable to a puddle on a street. But I plunged ahead. “So how would you describe huevos rancheros?”
“Well, what you described sounds like Wackety Eggs.” This was a reference back to our restaurant days in the ‘80s and early ‘90s. In our cafe, called Pywacket’s, we served a dish called Wackety Eggs, which was a big hit with everyone, including me, although apparently I wasn’t paying much attention to what was going on under the runny eggs.
“Huevos rancheros,” she continued, “has some other things in it, usually a homemade sauce of some sort, and there are different ways to make it. You know, it’s really interesting that you should suggest huevos rancheros, because this month’s issue of Bon Appetit has several recipes for egg-type Mexican dishes.”
"So," I said, feeling a little full of myself, "I guess that means I'm on the cutting edge of cooking these days."
“Yes, you’re right on the cutting edge, at least according to Bon Appetit.”
“Maybe that’s why I never learned to cook,” I said, “because I already knew how.”
"I’d like to see some evidence of that,” she parried.
Wow! Not only can this woman cook, but she can also deliver the crisp little zinger when the occasion calls for it. I did a two-second scan of my entire life and found no such evidence to offer, so I shut my mouth and turned my attention back to driving, something I am at least moderately capable of doing.
For dinner that evening Mary cooked huevos rancheros -- the best I have ever tasted. The picture below (click to enlarge) shows how this Mexican-inspired delight came together. Check out the huevos rancheros veggies (a mix of onions, potatoes, tomatoes, 4 kinds of peppers, black beans, perfectly seasoned), along with the topping (yoghurt, sour cream, garlic, green onions, aleppo pepper), combined on a flour tortilla and cheese, and topped with eggs cooked to perfection.
Even as I write about it, my mouth waters . . . and my mind begins searching for something else I don't know how to cook.
A note from the cook:
Every good cook needs both inspiration and an appreciative audience. As you can see from this blog entry, David is both, in addition to being great at making salads and cleaning up after we have enjoyed a meal. I love trying new dishes, and David is always a willing guinea pig. So, in my book, it's a great partnership!
“Maybe that’s why I never learned to cook,” I said, “because I already knew how.”
"I’d like to see some evidence of that,” she parried.
Wow! Not only can this woman cook, but she can also deliver the crisp little zinger when the occasion calls for it. I did a two-second scan of my entire life and found no such evidence to offer, so I shut my mouth and turned my attention back to driving, something I am at least moderately capable of doing.
For dinner that evening Mary cooked huevos rancheros -- the best I have ever tasted. The picture below (click to enlarge) shows how this Mexican-inspired delight came together. Check out the huevos rancheros veggies (a mix of onions, potatoes, tomatoes, 4 kinds of peppers, black beans, perfectly seasoned), along with the topping (yoghurt, sour cream, garlic, green onions, aleppo pepper), combined on a flour tortilla and cheese, and topped with eggs cooked to perfection.
Even as I write about it, my mouth waters . . . and my mind begins searching for something else I don't know how to cook.
A note from the cook:
Every good cook needs both inspiration and an appreciative audience. As you can see from this blog entry, David is both, in addition to being great at making salads and cleaning up after we have enjoyed a meal. I love trying new dishes, and David is always a willing guinea pig. So, in my book, it's a great partnership!