Posts Tagged ‘brunch’

What I Took From the Woods: Pepper, Fennel and Sausage Breakfast Casserole

Fennel, pepper and sausage breakfast casserole (Eat Me. Drink Me.)

Once upon a time, I used to lead backpacking trips. Strange to think about now, after having found my affinity for cities – and big ones at that – that at one time, I gladly trekked through green forests with a pack damping sweat on my back, feet sheathed in sturdy boots, and plastic bags of trail mix stashed inside my pack. We called it gorp, short for “good old raisins and peanuts,” and individuals were severely reprimanded for what was called “strip-mining the gorp” – eating only the colorful M&Ms and leaving behind a pile of nut-dusted raisins.

Round Knob hike (Eat Me. Drink Me.)

Each trip lasted about a week and was divided three ways. Three days were spent hiking along the Tennessee-Carolina Appalachian Trail. As we wound our way up steep and rocky paths, we’d stop to pick small wild blueberries studding the bushes or to watch a Monarch rest its wings on a cluster of flowers. The woods were full of squirrels and chattering birds, honeybees, butterflies, and more dangerous animals too – rattlesnakes, bears, and pesky mosquitoes. We made camp near shelters, setting up blue tarps for tents, purifying water from nearby streams to drink, peeling sweaty socks from our tired feet.

There were two separate routes, but both led down to the Appalachian town of Hot Springs, where dirty groups would meet at the Smoky Mountain Diner for giant glasses of tooth-shattering sweet tea, deep-fried sweet corn and okra, cornbread and warm blackberry pie with ice cream.

Butterflies on the AT (Eat Me. Drink Me.)

Peppers (Eat Me. Drink Me.)

Peppers, onion and fennel (Eat Me. Drink Me.)

One day of the trip was spent doing a service project in the Asheville area. Some days, we’d clear forest trail of overgrown weeds, fallen stumps and stones. Others, we’d plant gardens for schools or sort cans at the food bank.

Two days of the trip were spent on the river, the French Broad, fondly referred to as “The Dirty Broad.” It was a very dirty river. » Continue reading this post...

Leftovers Regifted (a post by Josh): Biscuits

A Christmas scene (Eat Me. Drink Me.)

It all started with leftovers. Not those things that sit in Tupperware containers in the back of your refrigerator for too long, growing mold because you didn’t want to eat the same thing on Monday as you did on Saturday. Maybe that’s just me. But it did all start with leftovers. The type that isn’t prepared. That one ingredient that you buy for one recipe but the recipe only calls for about a quarter of the container, so now you’re stuck with a lot of buttermilk. That’s what happened to me, at least. And during the holidays, of all times. What joy!

If you caught it in my last post, the one about half moon cookies, the recipe called for buttermilk. I don’t really know much about the stuff, and neither does my family, it seems. “I think it’s the healthiest milk there is,” “It’s all naturally fat free,” “I don’t know if anyone just drinks it,” “Doesn’t it make all yogurt?” I don’t know if any of that is true, but I do know that I had too much buttermilk to try out a big, tall, brimming glass of the stuff. So I decided to reduce (my quantity of buttermilk), reuse (it in another recipe), and recycle (again, reuse it).

The cookie culprit (Eat Me. Drink Me.)

It was Christmas morning and the scene was set. The tree was outfitted with lights, blinking, and presents stuffed underneath. Coffee was brewing. My brother was headed in from Charleston. My sister, her husband, and my nephew were on their way out to our house. My moms were reading on the couch. I was in charge of food.

I walked down the stairs, opened the fridge to find some inspiration and what did I find? Buttermilk. I moved it out of the way, in search of the eggs, but then, with all clichés in mind, it hit me. » Continue reading this post...

Brunch – A fashionable Event (a post by Josh)

My housemates and I have decided to start up a less-than-innovative tradition within our group of friends: Brunch. Sunday Brunch, to be more exact. Sunday Brunch Potluck style to be precise. We figure that food is the best reason to come together, our house the best location, and Sunday the best time to prepare for the upcoming week.

As I said, this tradition is nothing new. In fact, we are rapidly approaching the 115th anniversary of the first publicized use of “Brunch.” Back in 1895, an Englishman, Guy Beringer, pleaded to the general readership of Hunter’s Weekly to delay breakfast and combine it with the mid-day meal. Unbeknownst to us, there were reasons other than as an excuse for gathering during the first push to popularize this meal. Beringer’s main arguing point for creating a conjoined meal rested largely on the goings on the night before; he wanted to drink more, until later, and not feel bad about it. In fact, Beringer also became revolutionary by suggesting that alcoholic drinks be taken with Brunch, which spawned (not until later) the birth of the Bloody Mary and mimosa.

“Brunch: A Plea” caught on throughout universities, allowing students to enjoy their Saturdays just that much more. The more general British public began to participate due not to increasing alcohol consumption, but because of the virtues that Beringer suggested came of Brunch, including compelling conversation, good temperament, a cheerful disposition, and an enticing and social environment. Who would have thought a combination of two meals into one would result in virtuosity, let alone psychological treatment. Beringer also insisted that Brunch was a source of satisfaction: “Brunch makes you satisfied with yourself.”

The dynamic duo of a meal stayed mostly in Britain, however, until the 1930s, When American Movie stars started to indulge in Brunch out of necessity. » Continue reading this post...