High On ‘Shrooms

Guys…white truffles cost, on average, two hundred bucks. These MUSHROOMS, on average, cost two hundred dollars. For one ounce. I mean…what?

I know this because I’ve been taking a cooking class, and one of the dishes I’ve been perfecting is scrambled eggs. I know, I know– “Scrambled eggs? How easy! You need a class for scrambled eggs?” Yes, jerks. Because lately I’ve been making the creamiest, fluffiest, most flavorful scrambled eggs you’ve ever had in your lives, and it’s all because of this class. And since you were rude about it, I’m not going to tell you my technique or recipes (except for you, Julie–chives and lobster!).

My teacher likes to give different ways to elevate scrambled eggs. One of his suggestions is to grate white truffles over the top of them before you serve, so off I went to locate some white truffles.

Two hundred dollars. Four hundred dollars. Eighty dollars. These were my options. And–no. This just ain’t gonna happen. Why don’t I just cut up some cash and sprinkle it atop the eggs? Or maybe my 401k? Two hundred dollars is an outrageous price! Outrageous!

But… Maybe for Christmas?

No. It’s ridiculous, right?!

But possibly for my birthday?

No! Why am I even considering this?!

Full disclosure–I’m pretty desperate for elevated scrambled eggs. Who else out here is making elevated scrambled eggs?! I could be the only one! That’s very seductive! Can you imagine people saying, “Kristin makes the BEST scrambled eggs in the world!”? That’d be great, right? Have I lost it?

Guys, I’m obviously not going to buy these white truffles. I’m a rational human being. And it would only be rational to buy such a thing on a birthday or, say, Christmas…

New Hobbies

This morning I woke up to an email from Sephora notifying me that I am $104 dollars away from Rouge status. And I thought, oh yeah! Rouge me up right nice, baby. And then, while opening up the Sephora app on my phone to see what was new, I thought, wait–rouge status is when you spend $1000 in a year…holy shit, I’ve spent almost $1000 in Sephora this year! Then, in the name of responsibility and accountability, I closed the app, showered and dressed…then went to Target.

In retrospect, going to Target was probably a bad idea, too. While at the store, I had the great idea to stock my kitchen with all the equipment I’ve ever read about in cookbooks: a food processor for all the soups and nut butters I envision myself making, a dutch oven for…things that have to be made in a dutch oven, a casserole dish because since the age of eight I’ve really been an eighty-five year old lady dreaming of baking delicious casseroles, a strainer because why don’t I already have one of those, a whisk, ramekins, garlic press…

I went a little overboard, but I do feel ready for anything now–the holidays, birthdays, game nights. Back in September I bought Chrissy Teigen’s second cookbook, and I’m excited to go through and try a bunch of stuff. I’m going to be a really good cook one day, guys. Even if it means that you, my friends, have to eat my subpar meals while I’m getting there.

Anyway, I’m on a self-imposed ban now from Sephora and Target. But, bright side, I’ll have a lot more time to become a domestic goddess. Hit me up if you want some homemade almond butter.

Buenos Días

 

Here’s a little-known fact about me: I make the best breakfast burrito in Georgia. I know that I don’t know everyone in Georgia, so I can’t really say with certainty, but—I MAKE THE BEST BREAKFAST BURRITO IN GEORGIA. Maybe even in the southeast. Also, Chicago.

Most people don’t know this about me because I only make breakfast burritos for certain people and at certain times. Like when I want to impress men’s family members with my cooking skills. Or when I want to spoil loved ones on their birthdays with unforgettable, perfectly seasoned deliciousness. Or on Sundays when I invite people over for brunch and want to appear to be a fully functioning adult.

As a teenager, I had a friend, Valerie, who was of Mexican ethnicity. When I would sleep over at her house, I always helped her make breakfast in the morning, and she taught me how to make what is the best breakfast burrito you’ve ever put in your mouth. Seriously, it’s the best. The only reason I don’t say that I make the best breakfast burrito in the United States is because Valerie makes the best ones. And her mom. And her sisters. Even her brother. But then me. They taught me everything I know. Aside from her family, I also make the best Mexican hot chocolate and huevos rancheros.

Guys… I hope all of this bragging didn’t mistakenly lead you to believe that I was going to share Valerie’s recipe with you. Because…no. It’s mine. I can’t give up the “best breakfast burrito in certain parts of the U.S.” throne. I can’t and I shan’t. If you did think that, though, thank you so much for believing that I’m capable of such selflessness. It’s been a while since someone has had that level of faith in me. Anyway, you guys have your fancy lasagnas and family mac and cheese recipes. LET ME HAVE THIS!

It ain’t Valerie’s, but this recipe from Chowhound will get you very close. Enjoy! And only make it for those who deserve it!

How To: Make Mousse au Chocolat

  1. Decide the day before that you’re adept enough with this dish that you can whip it up the day of (Thanksgiving, in my case).
  2. Wake up early on Thanksgiving morning with an attitude because you stayed up the night before binge-watching shitty Netflix horror movies that Netflix warned you that you wouldn’t like, but you don’t like it when people/computers tell you what to do so…
  3. Stumble into the bathroom to wash your face, brush your teeth, and silently lament the audacity of your loved ones to expect you to contribute to Thanksgiving dinner. Then remember that they begged you not to make anything for Thanksgiving dinner because you suck at cooking. But…no one tells you what to do.
  4. Defiantly shut off the water and stomp into the kitchen. Decline to gather the needed ingredients in one place ahead of time because you don’t cook enough for that good idea to even pop into your head.
  5. Grab six eggs out of the fridge (which should be room temperature, but you forgot that part and now there’s no time) and separate the yolks from the whites. Crack open the first egg and get the disgusting surprise of a bloody egg yolk.
  6. Scream.
  7. Throw the egg into the sink.
  8. Scream.
  9. Lie down on the couch for fifteen minutes trying to recuperate and pledging to be a vegan fo’ life.
  10. Remember that there will be mashed potatoes infused with juicy, flavorful bits of bacon at dinner, so this vegan lifestyle isn’t going to work out.
  11. Woman up and stomp back into the kitchen. Disinfect the sink.
  12. Unwrap the chocolate (bittersweet baking chocolate) to melt it. Realize that you only bought 100 grams, but the recipe calls for 200 grams.
  13. Scream.
  14. Resign yourself to halving the recipe, and if you don’t have enough for everyone at dinner you’ll just blame the guests who were able to have some for eating it up from the others.
  15. Place the chocolate into a double boiler and let it melt.
  16. Time to brave the eggs again. Now you’ll only need three.
  17. Become really cocky when you separate the first two eggs like Chrissy Teigen, then accidentally drop the third yolk into the bowl of egg whites.
  18. Scream.
  19. Try to spoon out as much of the yolk as possible. Think about starting over with new eggs, but ultimately decide that a little yolk in your egg whites is pas de problème (i.e. no big deal).
  20. Mix the egg yolks and set them aside.
  21. Dig out your electric mixer, because it’s time to whip the egg whites into a meringue.
  22. Turn the mixer on high and submerge it into the bowl of egg whites.
  23. Scream when they fly everywhere.
  24. Clean up the mess, while cursing silently to yourself.
  25. This time submerge the mixer first, then turn it on high to whip the egg whites.
  26. Become concerned 5-7 minutes later when they are just as liquid as they were 5-7 minutes ago.
  27. Remember that you’re melting chocolate, and breathe a sigh of relief once you realize you haven’t burned it. Take the chocolate off the stove to let it cool.
  28. Go back to whipping the egg whites. Curse aloud when they are still liquid seven minutes later. “What the fuuuuccckkk?!”
  29. Google “how to stiffen egg whites”. Add cream to the egg whites and watch nothing happen.
  30. In frustration go back to the chocolate—which has now started to solidify again.
  31. Curse your family for teasing your lack of cooking skills, resulting in forcing you to prove them wrong.
  32. Melt the chocolate again.
  33. Once the chocolate has melted pour it, bit by bit, into the egg yolks and mix. You don’t want to do it too quickly or the heat from the chocolate will curdle the eggs.
  34. Watch in disbelief as your egg yolks begin to curdle.
  35. Walk back to your egg whites while repeating to yourself, “This is not happening. This is not happening.”
  36. Beat the egg whites another five minutes. Still liquid.
  37. Throw up your hands, yell “Fuck it!” and pour the egg whites into the bowl that is now chocolatey scrambled eggs.
  38. Try to mix. Nope.
  39. Dump the mixture into the garbage.
  40. Scream.
  41. Lie on the couch for fifteen minutes trying to recuperate.
  42. Search your pantry for something (anything!) to bring to Thanksgiving dinner. Rice? No. Black beans? Why on Earth?
  43. Find one single, solitary box of Trader Joe’s coffee cake mix. Shout hallelujah!, do a praise dance, and promise God that you will no longer use the word fuck again (unless shit gets real).
  44. PAY VERY CLOSE ATTENTION TO THE INSTRUCTIONS AND MAKE THE COFFEE CAKE.
  45. Pat yourself on the back for single-handedly saving Thanksgiving.

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And if, by any chance, you still want to brave making mousse au chocolate, here’s a great recipe.