eggs | Jenna's Everything Blog

I am so excited about this sandwich. Not just because it’s delicious, easy to make either for breakfast or on a busy weeknight, and made from things we normally have in our pantry (though all those things are true), but because there is finally an entry under my ‘sandwiches’ category. This brings me one step closer to accomplishing my summer culinary goals. Can I hear a “hoo! ha! fuhubugadz!” from anyone out there in the crowd this morning?

Anyone? Fuhubugadz?

Anyway.

The sandwich is nothing fancy, though you could dress it up with chives or peppers or bacon, but I’m sharing here just in case some poor urchin out there hasn’t tried throwing one together before. And I mean ‘urchin’ in the most affectionate way possible–I’m going for a lovable and pathetic Oliver Twist kind of thing. See, I was once of those poor urchins who hadn’t made a breakfast sandwich before, until one of my sisters stepped in and changed things forever.

I can’t remember which one. Maybe Erica? Maybe Heidi? Anyway, it’s satisfying and perfect and . . . well, technically not really a recipe.

“You know, even though I’m posting this on my blog, let’s be honest–this isn’t really a recipe,” I said mournfully to my husband after tossing it on a plate. “It’s more like . . . an assembly.”

“But assembly meals are my favorite kind!” exclaimed my husband.

Then, because he said exactly the right thing at exactly the right moment, I rewarded him with five schmoochy kisses and a partridge in a pear tree.

So with his support and encouragement, and because this satisfied his man-palate and his man-stomach, here we go!

Ingredients

(Serves 1)

1 English muffin, halved
1 egg
Pat of butter
Salt and pepper, to taste
1 slice Muenster cheese
1-2 thin slices good-quality ham

Don’t harangue me for saying ‘good quality ham’–I’m not trying to pull an Ina Garten on you (though I do love the woman)–it’s just that since the ingredients here are so few, the quality will really make a difference. With that note, we shall proceed.

Halve and toast the English muffin . . .

. . . and spread it with butter on both sides.

Set it aside.

In a non-stick skillet, heat up the pat of butter over medium high heat until fully melted. Crack the egg into the butter, sprinkle it with salt and pepper, and turn down the heat to medium.

As the white of the egg begins to set, use a spatula to gently break the yolk in the middle and fold the thin edges of white towards the center to create a round shape. Something like this:

And I almost forgot–toss the slice (or slices) of ham to the skillet, next to the egg.

Take a second to slice up the old block of Muenster. And that “old” was an affectionate term, not an indicator of a potentially moldy situation.

Make the slices on the thin side–we don’t want to drown this thing in cheese.

When the egg is mostly set, turn it over (turn the ham over too) . . .

. . . and place the slice of Muenster on top.

Cook the egg for just another minute or two, until it’s fully cooked and the cheese is melted.

You’ll notice that my one slice of cheese somehow became three slices of cheese. I chalk it up to the Mysterious Ways of the Universe.

Now it’s time to assemble the sandwich: put the egg, cheese and ham between the English muffin halves.

Check out the tasty brown bits on the ham. Oh yes.

Serve!

Seek the opinion of the man at the table.

He takes a bite . . . he chews . . . he ponders . . .

He approves!

Make this sandwich! You will approve too.

And now for something completely different: I was recently reading through my daily blog list, happily perusing Amy’s post on a lovely pasta dish with zucchini and mushrooms. She went on to say that she’d just received a gift from a so-called ‘Fairy Hobmother’ from Appliances Online, and encouraged us to leave a comment on her post since this Fairy might grant us an appliance wish too.

“Who is this Fairy Hobmother person, and why the heck would she send me an appliance?” I asked myself. I followed the link to an online appliance store. “Oh well,” I shrugged, “If they employ a fairy who wants to send me free stuff, I guess I want a juicer.” And I moved on with my life.

When I opened my email on Wednesday, surprise surprise: the Fairy Hobmother has not only decided to send me a juicer, but also says that if any of you all want to leave a comment on this post and make a wish, she may also decide to drop by your digs (figuratively speaking) and send you the appliance you’ve been needin’. Wow. I guess this somehow works out for the appliance company financially . . . but I’m not exactly sure how. Thankfully I don’t have to worry about that. Phew.

Now I can start my day off with Swamp Monster food: blended kale, avocados, carrots, and who knows what else. Maybe a splash of heavy cream, ’cause that’s how I roll.

Click here for printer-friendly version: Ham and Egg Breakfast Sandwich

I don’t often make salads. When I do, the leftover ingredients usually go bad in this household of two. Then the guilt eats away at me. Then I vow never to let that happen again. So I steer clear from salads–it’s not that I don’t enjoy eating them, but who wants to be caught in a vicious cycle of wilty greens and guilt?

This salad, however, sunk me as soon as I saw its good-looking’ mug shot on Tasty Kitchen. And since it’s a warm salad, it can count as a main dish for a meal, and thus get consumed faster, before it goes bad and adds itself to my Register of Remorse. It satisfies the typical American man (meat, potatoes) and woman (leafy greens) so that everyone can be happy. It’s so good that we ate it two nights in a row, and then went and made it a third time the next night with a different kind of sausage.

Ingredients

(Serves 4)

1.5 lbs new potatoes or red potatoes
Salt and pepper to taste
15 oz chorizo sausage
1 TBS olive oil
16 oz mixed salad greens
1 lemon
4 poached or fried eggs (1 per person, optional)

Here are the ingredients:

And the eggs are optional, but they come highly recommended. By me.

Wash the potatoes and chop them into bite-sized cubes.

Bring a pot of salted water to a boil . . .

. . . and add the potatoes.

Cook them for 10-15 minutes, or until tender when pierced with a fork (but not falling apart!).

In the meantime, chop the sausage into small chunks.

I’ve never dealt with Mexcan chorizo before, and this step was messier than what I bargained for–next time I’ll just put the whole thing in the pan and break it apart as it cooks. The original recipe used Spanish chorizo, which is cured and hard (so it will retain its shape). My grocery store, however, only had this:

It’s delicious, but a completely different animal, and crumbles apart as you cook it. It’s up to you (and the availability of these products) to decide which kind you get.

Heat the olive oil in a cast iron skillet or other large pan over medium heat. When it’s hot, add the sausage . . .

. . . and cook for about 10 minutes, until it’s getting brown and starting to release oil of its own. This was the moment when my fantasy of having the sausage cook in chunks was decimated. Overturned. Debunked.

Oh well. Ground meat it is.

Once the potatoes are cooked, add them to the pan with the sausage and cook it all together for about 10-12 minutes, stirring frequently.

Add a good amount of salt and pepper to taste.

If you’re adding some eggs, this is the time to try or poach them. Sorry, no pictures of this part–just one shot of a lonely egg that was quickly poached in my leftover potato-boiling water.