I’m kind of a vegetable geek. I get all, wow, did you see those rutabagas? It’s a bit like when Leonard and Sheldon go to the comic book store on The Big Bang Theory. Now, I’m not inept and awkward when it comes to social norms, but I do enjoy a fab pizza loaded with charred veggies or an omelet stuffed with green stuff and topped with avocado.
The profuse summer produce is history, unless it was somehow preserved. What’s exploding are roots and cole crops. These babies are able to tolerate the colder temps, unlike some of us who are now wearing multiple layers. Big, dirt-caked Russet potatoes, cabbages the size of a small child, parsnips, turnips and Brussel sprouts, I’m filled with vegetal happiness.
Saturday morning I fix breakfast. I do eat breakfast every day, but Saturday is when there’s more time to actually do more than granola with fruit, swigged back with cream enhanced coffee.
Eggs are a standard for our Saturday feasting soiree. Hubby likes them soft, with golden liquid flowing onto his plate to be scooped up with toast. Me, not so much; mine need have those little yolks broken and served up hard.
Since I am a big consumer of vegetables, I can’t leave the eggs alone. If they are scrambled, they have vegetables, as an omelet, they have vegetables, as the over-easy ditty, they need a side dish or bed of veggies to snuggle into.
With summer’s zucchini and peppers out of reach, potatoes, Brussels sprouts and onions step right up and offer hash goodness. The perfect host for those aforementioned eggs; gotta have some protein.
Here’s what I did:
I had a few Yukon gold potatoes, yellow onions and a package of shaved Brussels sprouts. The onions were chopped up fairly coarsely. I like to have visible chunks. They were tossed into a medium hot skillet, coated with a bit of oil. I let them start to sweat and get translucent. Next up, the potatoes that were rough cut, around one inch, were promptly mixed with the onions. All got a good stir, enduring the heat for a few before the B-sprouts joined the skillet.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, while the ingredients cook and slightly char (yes, I’ve used that word too many times); a dash of salt, fresh cracked pepper, garlic powder and there you have it, a mélange eagerly awaiting the egg of choice.
Happy breakfast camper –