For those with an Iron Chef mentality, the one that can open a fridge or pantry, see half a dozen different items and create a meal from them in a few blinks of an eye, giving them a workable name can often be a lesson in futility.
Take this amazing and delicious, light and airy breakfast I made for myself lately. It defied definability.
You see, while it looks like scrambled eggs all fluffy and moist, it was comprised mostly of roasted acorn squash and baked potato, with eggs stirred into it to extend it’s nutritional value. Plus, the thought of just eating leftover spuds and squash for breakfast, without a protein or complimentary option, like crazy-delicious wild rice sausage, would have been unthinkable. I mean, yeah I’ve done it. It just hasn’t lasted me all that long, causing the ‘Second Breakfast’ syndrome to rear it’s ugly head.
But it has no name. It has defied all appointed options, like Scrambled Squash, or mundane offerings like Breakfast Scramble- this ain’t no Denny’s here- and yet ever since I made it, tasted it, loved it and then subsequently devoured it like I was starving, I have wanted more. Another shot at greatness to see if my one-time deal was more than some kind of fluke.
This is what I did. I had half a roasted acorn squash, all creamy moist and tender, and a baked potato in it’s wrinkly jacket and I placed them in a bowl and mashed them well with a fork. I stirred in two eggs that had also been blended well, then whisked the entire mass until it was smooth and fully homogenized. I poured it into a pan and crossed my fingers. Soon it was setting, thanks to the eggs, and I turned it gently. It started to act like a frittata, but with a loftier personality. It snubbed it’s nose at scrambled eggs, and ignored any attempt to be an omelet. It cooked up beautifully and smelled incredible, and when I finally scraped the finished product into a bowl with the cooked wild-rice sausage- have I mentioned how I LOVE this item? No? Oh my……L.O.V.E- and sprinkled a bit of salt and pepper over it, my first bite was rapturous and even a bit other worldly.
It tasted of potato, and it tasted of egg. It combined the best of both those ultra-favorite breakfast items into one big glorious dish, and yet as I sat enjoying it, savoring each bite and mentally patting myself on the back at my genius, I could not, for the life of me, decide what to christen it.
So fellow food lovers and bloggers, any ideas???