Ode to the egg

It's worth returning to the egg for another examination. The marketers got it quite right when they proclaimed it not just edible but incredible so many years ago. But, recent research and the rise of both small family farms and even backyard poultry show us that the egg's place in our diet is on the rise.

The egg is the backbone of most of the tiny operations here on our island, mirroring, I suspect, the context in the surrounding Puget Sound region, although certainly not the larger breadbasket of the state, where monoculture still dominates. It is the egg, usually brown or a rainbow collection, that brings folks to the farm stands, the egg that sells out first at the farmers market. For us, it is the egg that brings people up our driveway when the stand's cooler is empty, inquiring with hope and hesitation, whether perhaps by chance are there any just boxed or lying in wait in their collection basket?

And for good reason. It's almost safe to say that there's not really any such thing as "the egg" anymore. There's growing awareness out there that the factory eggs sitting on the supercolossalwonderstore shelf are simply not the same food as the hand-washed beauties resting in a cooler at the end of your neighbor's lane. My son refuses to eat eggs in restaurants now. They are pale shadows of what he gets at home and Dylan claims they are simply taste free.

Eggs are high in protein and contain every major nutrient except vitamin C. Farm fresh eggs from free-range pastured hens not only look and taste a world away from factory eggs, they are dramatically lower in both cholesterol and fat. All this makes them just about the perfect food, and we haven't even touched on their versatility yet!

What else can you fry up for breakfast, slice onto your just-picked greens for a terrific lunch salad, whip up and bake in a crust with veggies and a little ham for dinner, then fold into flour and chocolate chips and a little (OK, a lot) sugar to munch on for a treat?

To celebrate, I think it's time for another quiche recipe, especially since the Fried Green Tomato Quiche gets so much traffic. Quiche is perfect for any meal of the day and also reheats well - so make 2!

Enjoy this one with a chilled crisp rose or Cote du Rhone and some mixed greens drizzled in herbed olive oil and a splash of red wine vinegar. The perfect meal to highlight the bounty of August ~

SSF sauteed greens and bacon quiche

Preheat the oven to 425.

Prepare your favorite pie crust or roll out a store-bought one and smooth it over a lightly oiled pie pan, crimping the edges. Bake until just lightly golden, 5-7 minutes. Remove and set aside.

Wash and cut the spine out of 1 bunch of chard or kale. Don't dry. Chop roughly and saute with 2 cloves chopped garlic in about 1-2 TBS olive oil until wilted, about 5 minutes.

Meanwhile whisk 3 large eggs with 1/3 C whole milk or half and half - or some combination thereof.

Chop 1/2 pound crispy-cooked bacon into bits.

Crumble about 1/3-1/2 C of feta cheese over the bottom of your pie crust. Sprinkle the bacon bits next. Spread the wilted greens over both, then pour in the egg mixture.

Bake for 15 minutes, then turn the oven down to 350 and bake for another 10-15. Allow to cool for 10 minutes before cutting and serving.

From our flock to yours - enjoy!

God bless the Antique Sandwich

I'm sure I'm not alone when I disclose that the older I get, the more I lament the shuttering of a favorite restaurant, the demolition of a deco brick building, the overall constant barrage of faster and faster change. Years slip by and the places that built memories become, one by one, memories themselves.

And that's why we pilgrimage to the Antique Sandwich.

Objectively, there is nothing really stand-out about the Sandwich. They do make everything from scratch, including the world's best egg salad, which I cannot stray from no matter how solid my resolve, and their doughy whole wheat bagels, which would send any east coast native out of the place screaming. The service is pretty slow and occasionally even brusque. The carpet is worn and more than a little grimy. And the giant toy bin is an excellent place to build up your kid's immune system.

But, the menu hasn't changed in 20 years. At least 20 years - that's how long I've been coming here. And neither has anything else. Nothing. Same big old oak tables, same dusty fair trade items for sale on the walls and in cases. Same collection of audio equipment waiting for Tuesday nights when Victory Music holds the open mic and broadcasts it live. Same creaky stairs that lead up, eventually, to the only bathrooms. I swear when the baker emerges from the back hallway she still wears the same apron I first glimpsed nearly 2 decades ago.

Same. All same. Walking into the darkened room, where a new generation of toddlers play over by that toy bin and their moms share one of the Sandwich's enormous slices of pie, where old men sit across a table from each other and read the morning paper, where your money goes into an actual cash register that clunks and the operator of said antique is forced to figure your change - walking in here is just exactly like coming home.

I've learned not to burst in here starving - that only leads to irritation - and if there's a line, I know the best course of action is to get to know the person in front of me b/c we'll be spending some time together. But, once we're settled in at one of those big round tables, sipping our lemon water and knowing that lunch, when it arrives, will be just like every other lunch we've ever had at the Sandwich, yummy and handmade, a settled calm descends. My shoulders relax just a little and my eyes drift over the wooden carvings and woven scarves, hand-made earrings from Central America and beaded bracelets from Africa. Muted conversation wafts all around me and I'm a little less interested in catching the next ferry.

And it doesn't hurt that they make a mean milkshake.