The holiday season brings out the giving spirit. The question is how does an omelette express that?
Quite simple. When your best friend offers to make breakfast with leftovers. Slyly pushing past the ordinary , My Hunney palms two organic zucchini. Into the pan they go without any complaint. Almost happy to be rescued from the icy fridge. Sliced onions join. Bubbling and sizzling until their caramel personalities emerge. Then the duck breast. Christmas eve included a dance with one of Park City’s finest chef’s, Adam Ross, and a few left overs. He assured us that the lavender risotto tasted like ice cream because he had to improvise. You see, at the last moment, his goose three ways with lavender risotto was out of lavendar. Rather than rant at the pantry manager or sulk in salt, this brave twenty-something reached into his right brain and added fresh vanilla bean instead. To a heady dinner of goose three ways, the softer, slightly sweet starch brought a parchment-like bounce.
Of course, I was not the wiser when the order went in for my Christmas eve lamb. Yes. The potatoes seemed just perfect with a braised shank. However, it’s a night of celebration. Of being with family. Of tasting the bounty of Utah’s ski resort elite. So a quick substitution to the lavender risotto made a ton of sense. That is until the Madagascar perfumed billowed out of the shiek’s tent like some traveler whiffing comfort after a weary day.
Something seems really appealing about matching dense, rich meat with herbal infused, creamy starches. Not this time. Little did he know that I was playing out serendipity on top of the chef’s serendipity. What holds all of this together is the power of flavor synonyms.
Back to breakfast the next day. Without much of a breath, My Hunney slipped into the kitchen and elevated leftover duck into an entirely new expression of delight. Now skinless and cubed, that game hugged the onioned zucchini and wrapped itself into cocoon of egg perfection. A little salt and pepper later, bronzed coffee within reach, I dug into Christmas breakfast. I dug into a precious expression of love.
That’s what an expression of love can be. Breakfast tailored to the individual. Braised to the recipient’s mood and sensibilities. Who needs bacon when duck confit could do? Why not slide in Italy’s favored veggie combo?
It’s common to argue for what we envision more than accept what’s presented for us. We’d rather dwell on the unmet rather than the undiscovered. And that’s a real shame. Today’s entry is about embracing the now. Yes, food takes center stage as the vehicle of expression. That’s just the music I’m tuned to hear. What’s your music? Where are you tuned?