Recently in Breakfast Category

I have my usual way of making oatmeal, but I never realized that it was the best way (for the Walkers, anyway). My husband likes my oatmeal although he kind of hates oatmeal in general. The way I discovered this is that I made our morning oatmeal a different way this morning and Todd could hardly hide his disgust; it was sticky, mushy stuff.

My usual technique, which I picked up from Todd's aunt, results in pleasantly chewy oatmeal with firm, loose oats. You can taste the toastiness of them. And I just use regular (not 1-minute) Quaker Oats. You bring the water to a boil, add the oats (amounts according to the box), boil for 1 minute, then turn it off. Then you let it sit for about 5 minutes. I usually have to use a slotted spoon to remove the oats from a slight excess of cooking liquid (which is probably why they stay so firm; they haven't absorbed all the water), so I guess it's a little like cooking pasta (although not that much excess water is involved).

Chopped walnuts add even more texture, and my son usually likes raisins in his. Maple syrup, honey or brown sugar.

We're 10 minutes away from the arrival of some friends, and August says, "Want pumpkin muffins." These were so easy to make a few days ago, and August and I had such a nice time making them, that I almost said, "OK, let's go make more." But then I pictured our friends arriving to find us covered in flour, egg all over the counter, the boy's mouth rimmed with the sugar he sneaked, and I said no. But during his nap I found 10 minutes to mix this up, so now we'll have an out-of-season snack this afternoon.

I think I decided to make pumpkin muffins in the middle of spring because I had a tub of cream cheese in the fridge and these muffins are an awesome cream-cheese-carrier. For 12 muffins, you mix 2/3 cup sugar, 1 egg, 3 tablespoons each water and oil, and 1/2 cup pumpkin. In another bowl, 1 cup flour (I do 2/3 white and 1/3 wheat), 1/2 teaspoon baking powder, 1/4 teaspoon each baking soda, cinnamon and salt, 1/8 teaspoon each ground cloves and nutmeg. Once I have them in the paper baking cups I top them with some walnuts (chopped or halves). Bake in 400 degree oven about 13 minutes.

We're 10 minutes away from the arrival of some friends, and August says, "Want pumpkin muffins." These were so easy to make a few days ago, and August and I had such a nice time making them, that I almost said, "OK, let's go make more." But then I pictured our friends arriving to find us covered in flour, egg all over the counter, the boy's mouth rimmed with the sugar he sneaked, and I said no. But during his nap I found 10 minutes to mix this up, so now we'll have an out-of-season snack this afternoon.

I think I decided to make pumpkin muffins in the middle of spring because I had a tub of cream cheese in the fridge and these muffins are an awesome cream-cheese-carrier. For 12 muffins, you mix 2/3 cup sugar, 1 egg, 3 tablespoons each water and oil, and 1/2 cup pumpkin. In another bowl, 1 cup flour (I do 2/3 white and 1/3 wheat), 1/2 teaspoon baking powder, 1/4 teaspoon each baking soda, cinnamon and salt, 1/8 teaspoon each ground cloves and nutmeg. Once I have them in the paper baking cups I top them with some walnuts (chopped or halves). Bake in 400 degree oven about 13 minutes.

I really didn't think this would coalesce into anything: a good balsamic from O & Co, yogurt cheese made from a grocery-brand yogurt, cracked black pepper and OK, big, red strawberries. I cut up the strawberries, tossed them with some sugar and let them sit, then I topped it with a dollop of yogurt that I had strained overnight so that it thickened, drizzled the vinegar over that and added some black pepper.

Now I'm not entirely sure the pepper added anything, but this was much better than the sum of its parts. The juice from those so-so berries, the sugar and that sweet, thick balsamic would be good on anything. Imagine if I had some good fruit. And the yogurt cheese, which was my contribution to a Bittman recipe, added its creamy, mellow tanginess and enough substance to make it a substantial snack or a light, light meal. Except for the sugar, this was pretty healthy, too.

It feeds my soul. It's my favorite part of the day. August and I are morning people (and Todd indulges us), so we sit around the table, eating, chatting. August stands on his chair and tells us stories, and so he paces all of us. It's the only time consistently we are all together as a family, and it's the fantasy I have when I think about what my perfect life would be.

Usually breakfast is cereal or oatmeal, or sometimes toasted bread or English muffins. This morning, because Todd's been complaining about the usual routine, I made scrambled eggs. I'm in the fluffy curds camp, not the flat, one-piece omelet-type camp, so I add a little water to the mixed-up eggs, maybe with some grated cheese or fresh herbs and definitely salt and pepper. Then I stir them in the skillet until they're almost cooked, and I turn off the heat toward the end so the carry-over heat can finish them off.

I guess the fact that breakfast such a brief moment in our daily lives is what makes the time we spend together at holidays, vacations, even weekends feel special. All of August's grandparents live a plane-ride away, and every once in a while I can be philosophical about it. August appreciates the time he has with them so much because they're not around all the time. I can't say whether it's more than if they were here every day, since that arrangement is just a dream for me, but I do think that every day grandma and grandpa are around is a holiday.

I thought I had a great idea: Turn the pecan-raisin rolls that were getting a little dry into a breakfast bread-pudding type casserole. But I tried to fudge the recipe and I ended up with something that wasn't pretty, with curdled-looking custard and bread that was mushy in some place and completely crusty in others. It was just that the bread didn't absorb enough of the custard; it sat all night in the fridge, so I can't help but think the bread was just too dense and maybe not dried out enough. Also, I think scrambling the eggs a bit before you mix them in with the milk, which maybe should have been something higher fat than 1 percent.

The flavor was good, with just a couple teaspoons of brown sugar and a dash of cinnamon. We ate some of it. So I may try it again with a few tweaks, and maybe I'll have something.

I have actually had some requests for this strata recipe, so I better get on the ball with it. I skipped some steps because I threw it together while watching the Oscars, and since I don't have a TV in my kitchen that meant running into the kitchen during breaks to get done what I could. Still, it was easy to make, and no one missed the things I left out.

You need 8 cups of 1-inch bread cubes. The recipe I was using said 1/2 pound, but my 1/2 pound Italian loaf was no where near enough, and this is kind of horrifying: all I had besides sandwich loaf was a whole wheat bagel, so that's what I used to supplement my bread. No one noticed. I scattered half of the cubes in my 9 x 13-inch pan (you could use a deeper 3-quart casserole dish and make 3 layers instead of 2). Then I scattered over it half of a 10-oz box of frozen spinach that I had thawed and squeezed dry (the recipe I used directed me to saute an onion, then add the spinach, salt, pepper and nutmeg - I skipped this step and added the seasonings to the custard). Then I sprinkled 1 cup grated gruyere and 1/2 cup parmesan over the bread and spinach. Repeat bread, spinach and cheese layers.

Mix together 2 3/4 cup milk, 9 eggs, a teaspoon of Dijon mustard and some salt, pepper and nutmeg, then pour it over the bread. Cover and refrigerate overnight (up to 24 hours). In the morning, take the strata out of the fridge to let it come to room temperature, about 30 minutes, then bake in a 350 degree oven for around 50 minutes. Let sit for a few minutes, the cut and serve.

I was so sure I was going to love this that I started composing this entry in my head before I had even scooped the yogurt into my cup. And I think the level of my expectations may have sabatoged the experiment. This is good, it's a natural, and I like it. Not really sweet enough to compete with a good honey-yogurt combo, not rich enough to make me swoon (my fault for choosing the nonfat instead of the full-fat yogurt, which were my only two options). This was the first time I opened up the June Taylor fig, port and lemon thyme conserve, and it's . . . interesting. Every flavor is there, so it's kind of a complex taste. I almost think the stuff would be good with some roasted pork, chicken, maybe even lamb. It's not really sweet enough to definitely be dessert.

Or a good cheese accompaniment--I almost think something nutty and sharp would be good with it--you know, like the quince paste and manchego combo. I think gorgonzola or goat cheese are common fig partners.

Oooh, I like the cheese idea . . . and there they go again, those expectations, higher, higher, higher.

I was so sure I was going to love this that I started composing this entry in my head before I had even scooped the yogurt into my cup. And I think the level of my expectations may have sabatoged the experiment. This is good, it's a natural, and I like it. Not really sweet enough to compete with a good honey-yogurt combo, not rich enough to make me swoon (my fault for choosing the nonfat instead of the full-fat yogurt, which were my only two options). This was the first time I opened up the June Taylor fig, port and lemon thyme conserve, and it's . . . interesting. Every flavor is there, so it's kind of a complex taste. I almost think the stuff would be good with some roasted pork, chicken, maybe even lamb. It's not really sweet enough to definitely be dessert.

Or a good cheese accompaniment--I almost think something nutty and sharp would be good with it--you know, like the quince paste and manchego combo. I think gorgonzola or goat cheese are common fig partners.

Oooh, I like the cheese idea . . . and there they go again, those expectations, higher, higher, higher.

If you know any dutiful churchgoers, you've probably at least heard of that experience when they (or you) walk into church, sit down, and hear a sermon that speaks exactly to some struggle they (or you) are having.

And so it goes with me today with that not-really-a-religion-but-feels-like-it-sometimes, food: I'm laying on the sofa at 6:30 this morning thinking that I really don't want to eat any of the usual suspects for breakfast. I want something savory, but not eggs. Something warm and satisfying. "What if I make grits with lots of butter and cheese?" Silence. So I'm not going to do it; I'm not hauling myself up to prepare food that my son and husband won't eat. Did I mention it's 6:30?

Then later, thank you, the Times suggests the very thing. It doesn't make my family any more willing to eat it, but it gives me a little vindication in the face of their disdain. And maybe tomorrow morning I'll make them go hungry as a sunny-colored bowl of grits slowly cools in front of them.