Buttermilk and red currant pancakes

When I was growing up on rare occasions my mother would make pancakes for dinner. This was an incredible treat and felt like being on vacation in the middle of the week. Although she made different sorts — including potato pancakes which I will write about another time — my favorites were made with buttermilk. This particular kind of pancake was referred to as “Finnish”; although that name referred to our family heritage, at the time that name sounded as luxurious as having breakfast for dinner actually was. Many years later, my mother’s recipe is alive and well as part of my comfort food collection.   Continue reading

Summer spaghetti frittata

There’s something about spaghetti for breakfast – or eating the crusts of homemade pizza in the morning for that matter –  that remind me of countless carefree summer days living along the coast of Naples. When I was younger, my mother’s best friend and everyday espresso partner taught her how to make use of leftover spaghetti by baking a simple frittata. The following recipe is the perfect example of how southern Italians make something delicious out of a handful of seemingly unimportant surplus ingredients.

Once baked this dish packs well as picnic food.  Served cold – wrapped in parchment paper –  with a ripe red tomato washed in the salty ocean – is how I remember this rustic Neapolitan frittata at its very best.

Served straight from the oven sprinkled with salt flakes – it makes for a wonderfully simple lunch –  even without a view of the Mediterranean.

The crunchy brown curls of the baked spaghetti are the best part by the way . . .

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The makings of migas

I traveled across continents from idyllic Italy straight into the heat of Texas oh so long ago to follow my studies in philosophy. Needless to say this move was a culture shock of massive proportions. One of the things that kept me focused was my fascination for people and for what defines them — despite and absolutely because of cultural differences I might add.

In the midst of a head-spinning number of years at university, I made friends with a couple of true-blue Texans who took me under their wing and showed me the good things in life in this laid-back part of the world. It was at their home that I learned how to cook migas — a Tex-Mex “breakfast-for-lunch” dish filled with savory ingredients as easy to prepare as making a piece of toast.

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