Brunch.

It’s a portmanteau– a made up word joining two words and two meanings. You know, a blend. List and article: Listicle. Smoke and fog: Smog. Breakfast and lunch: Brunch. 

Actually, Blue Cayenne’s sweet Chief Quality Officer (CQO)  Juliet is probably a portmanteau, too. Juliet is a little rescue and the bets are that she is a cross between a Yorkie and a Pomeranian. We won’t be telling Juliet, but that makes her a Porkie.

But enough vocabulary wanderings. What about the concept of brunch? 

Nineteenth-century British writer Guy Beringer is generally credited with coining the term brunch. He wrote a tongue-in-cheek piece in a British magazine, The Hunter’s Weekly, in 1895 titled “Brunch: A Plea.” In the piece, Beringer argued the merits of a late Sunday morning meal, one that would better suit those Saturday carousers who, in their hung over state, struggled to face the Sunday feed: “Brunch is a hospitable meal; breakfast is not. Eggs and bacon are adapted to solitude; they are consoling, but not exhilarating. They do not stimulate conversation. Brunch, on the contrary, is cheerful, sociable, and inciting. It puts you in a good temper. It makes you satisfied with yourself and your fellow beings. It sweeps away the worries and cobwebs of the week.”

This Blueberry Brunch Cake is perfect for any midday celebration. There is lots of flavor with lemon and blueberries and nutmeg. It’s pretty too. And, who couldn’t use a little cobweb cleanse now and then?

This recipe is adapted from a Marian Burros recipe that appeared in The New York Times. You can find the original recipe here.

Alice Waters. Chez Panisse. Slow Food. 

Living as we do in the era of fast and faster food–you know flamin’ cheetos and deep fried oreos–how good it is to slow down and reflect upon what we eat, when we eat it, and to appreciate the people and places that grow our food!

Alice Waters has dedicated her adult life to just that–joining the celebration of food with a sustainable model for preserving the land: “I was thinking about a philosophy of food that’s been around since the beginning of civilization: You buy what’s in the market, you eat what’s locally in season, you share it with family and friends, and you take care of the land.”

Along the way, Waters has amassed quite a few awards. The James Beard Foundation recognized her as “The Best Chef in America” in 1992 and also recognized Chez Panisse as “The Best Restaurant in America.” President Obama recognized her with a National Humanities Award for “celebrating the bond between the ethical and the edible.” And on and on…and on. 

Waters has just published a new book, We are What We Eat:  A Slow Food Manifesto. In her book, she argues for a new culinary paradigm for America, one where America  turns its back on the fast food values of uniformity, convenience, cheapness and speed and, instead, embraces beauty, seasonality, stewardship and simplicity: “Growing up in New Jersey, I remember taking in the changing seasons in awe. Our family would go for drives to see the trees changing colors in the fall and flowers coming up in the spring, and look for ripe tomatoes and corn in summer. Paying attention to these things gives you a sense of meaning in life. We’ve deadened ourselves to this, which is another horrible crime of fast food culture. It’s taken away our ability to find meaning in everyday life. We’re looking on our phones for feelings that can’t be found there. A kiss on the cheek? Or touching a beautiful fabric? These feelings are found in the real world. We need to get back to the understanding that beauty can be found by taking in the endless wonder of nature—and also in small actions, like lighting candles on your dinner table.”

This Almond Torte is a Chez Panisse recipe from  Lindsey Remolif Shere’s acclaimed cookbook, Chez Panisse Desserts. Shere was a pastry chef at Chez Panisse.

So…put down your phone (Yes. I’m speaking to you.), don your chef’s apron, and find a little beauty in this Almond Torte. Here is the recipe.

This recipe is adapted from Chez Panisse Desserts. The cookbook is available through your local bookstore and through Amazon here.

My good friend Carol gave me a delightful gift for my birthday— grow-your-own oyster mushrooms.

As it turned out, the gift triggered my long-suppressed American Gothic. You know…the farm, the pitchfork, the Willie Nelson concert.  

There I was every day for a couple of weeks tending my crop of tiny mushroom spores. I misted them—being sure each tiny spore got a generous drink. I nudged them into the dappled sunlight several times each day as the sun arced over my home. I gave them words of encouragement; there were a lot of “good jobs!” on my farm watch.  (Juliet, of course, thought I was nuts. The sweet little pup doesn’t have a farm dog bone in her fluffy little body.)

Then, after about two weeks and to my amazement, Woo-Hoo! I had a harvest!

I also had a conundrum: what to cook that was worthy of my crop?

Stir fry?

Ragu?

Nope– Oyster Mushroom Po’ Boys. 

Po’Boy sandwiches are a New Orleans institution. Local lore has it that the sandwiches were introduced in the 1920s by brothers Bennie and Clovis Martin at their Martin Brothers Coffee Stand and Restaurant in the French Quarter. Former street car conductors, the brothers conjured up the large signature sandwiches to feed striking workers (the poor boys) during the bitter New Orleans street car strike in 1929. Here is a short video produced by the local historical society about the origin of the Po’Boy.

Vowing to support the strike “until h–l freezes,” the Martins published this fervent letter in solidarity with the strikers. 

Toni Tipton Martin, however, in her recent best-selling cookbook, Jubilee: Recipes From Two centuries of African American Cooking, writes that the origins of the sandwiches reach back into the African American experience in the South.  “Fried oysters piled high in a box made from a loaf of bread is referred to as a mediatrice–‘the Peace Maker’–in early twentieth century cookbooks. Back then, when a man came home late from a night of carousing in the French Quarter and told his anxiously waiting wife that he had been detained on business downtown, he brought her a mediatrice to curb her anger and make peace. The success of the plan depended upon an exquisitely prepared sandwich filled with delicate oysters.”

Whether you are making peace for your transgressions or standing strong with people who labor, unionize, and make things happen here in America, here is my oyster mushroom take on the Po’Boy.

As they say in New Orleans, laissez les bon temps rouler.