A touch of spice makes everything nice. That, and a lightly fried egg whose richness bathes everything in sticky bliss. The prongs of your fork will be cloying this substance, well after you’re done eating and trying to rinse it free. It doesn’t take much to make one simple brunch so memorable, and linger on in your tastebuds, if not also your silverware.
In the past couple months, I have gone off such the deep end into Eastern philosophy it’s embarrassing. I’ve traded coffee for tea, drunken bike crashes and homemade hangover brunch parties (as recalled in The Art of Eating In) for bikram yoga and granola with soy milk. I don’t know what’s going on. My latest obsession is with macrobiotics. It stresses the importance of many of the things we’re already privvy to about food (unprocessed, well-balanced), but much more, like … Read More