Allisonrieff

It’s too embarrassing to admit how many times I’ve picked up a block of extra firm tofu at The Trader Joe’s Sunday Shop, only to have it end up, four weeks later, in the garbage can of good intentions. Nonetheless, this past weekend, I tossed one into the cart, avoiding eye contact with my husband who would no doubt be happy to point out my current 0-and-5 bean curd record. Why does it go to waste every time? Why do I have such a hard time figuring out what to do with it? Well, in addition to the big huge minus of the kids not fully embracing tofu (“It’s like a wet flavorless marshmallow,” Phoebe once said), I’m just not confident cooking and experimenting with it, and I don’t feel like I have an archive of inspiring recipes. Once, I confessed all this insecurity to a blogger whose posts led me to believe she had an advanced degree in Tofu, and begged her to be my Tofu Tutor. I think I scared her off, because I never heard from her again.

But this past Monday, I wasn’t messing around. In order for Tofu Family Dinner to happen, clearly I had to get out of my own way. So I made a plan. First, on facebook I asked you guys for suggestions. Wowowowow! Why don’t I do this more? Three hours and over 70 ideas later, I whittled the choices down to five, with the finalists mostly being chosen for simplicity, pantry overlap (no way was I  hitting the store the day after our weekly shop), and how golden and shiny the tofu looked. (I did not want anything remotely resembling a marshmallow.) Next, I sent this email to Andy.

        Which one do you want for dinner:

When Jenny and I were in our mid-twenties, we both had jobs in publishing – she at Real Simple, me at Esquire – and worked a few blocks apart, in midtown Manhattan. Sounds pretty glamorous, doesn’t it? It wasn’t, not really. But it was fun. For Jenny, who had spent two decidedly unfulfilling years, post-college, at a financial consulting firm in suburban Connecticut, it was a chance to flex those creative muscles, to unleash that side of her that can make a dollhouse out of a pile of clip-art and a cabinet door. For me, it was a chance to work with a bunch of writers I’d long admired and, in the process, come to understand just how little I really understood about writing. Work-wise, everything felt new and different back then, if that makes sense; when each day presents you with something you’ve never done before, you are constantly learning and constantly being challenged and, as a result, constantly feeling like a screaming fraud on the cusp of being found out. This was both motivating and, in hindsight, good for the soul. I can remember telling an older co-worker and mentor, when he asked me how I was holding up during a particularly tough week — one with a lot of late nights — that I was doing GREAT, thank you for asking. I told him, with total sincerity, that in the two years I had been at Esquire, there had not been a single morning when I dreaded coming to work! And I remember the look on his face when I said it, too: a kind of tight smile that said, Ahhh, yes. I remember being twenty-five and naive once, as well, my son. And I am smiling somewhat inscrutably like this right now because it is the only way I can keep myself from informing you that there will come a day when the prospect of editing your 43rd “Women We Love” cover package will make getting out of bed in the morning seem very, very hard.

But in the meantime, Jenny and I were happy just living in the moment. We had no kids yet, no mortgage, no boxes of baby pictures accumulating in the basement, no ballet shoes, lacrosse sticks, soccer bags, emergency granola bar stashes, or Taylor Swift CDs rattling around in the back of our car. (Actually, we didn’t have a car.) Working in the same business, and the same neighborhood, we had so much to talk and commiserate about. (I’d always send her a list of possible titles for a story I was working on before running them by my boss, for example; she was my insurance against public humiliation.) Every couple of weeks, we’d meet for lunch – usually at the local Au Bon Pain or the dreary, sneeze-guarded salad bar at the deli on 54th Street – but once in a while, we’d splurge and walk over to Uncle Nick’s on 9th Avenue. Uncle Nick’s was a cramped and busy Greek place with exposed brick and a sweaty, open kitchen populated by people who yelled a lot. It had too many tables, chairs so heavy you could barely push them back, and excellent souvlaki. An Uncle Nick’s lunch was what I call a “day-ender” – absurd portions of food that is simultaneously so flavorful that you can’t stop eating it and so filling that you immediately resign yourself, upon eating it, to an afternoon spent mourning the decisions you have made in life, and yearning for sleep. We’d get the tzatziki and a salad with blocks of fresh feta, a kebab or souvlaki platter, a side of Greek potatoes and, of course, rice pudding. None of it was what I would call light, but it was the potatoes that dealt the most crushing, and pleasurable, blow. They were roasted, but not crispy, oily but not greasy, crack-like in their addictive qualities.

I haven’t been to Uncle Nick’s in ten years, easy. I don’t even know if it’s still there, and am too lazy at the moment to google it. But in our house, at least, it lives on: I made Greek potatoes to go with a leg of lamb we’d grilled on Jenny’s birthday last weekend and boy, did it ever take us back. There it was, exactly. That fantastic texture, that deep yellow color, those hints of lemon and oregano. Damn! And oddly, given my sappy tendencies, the only thought after eating them was not, Wow, where did all the time go? It was, Why the heck do we ever eat potatoes any other way? – Andy

Greek Potatoes

3 large russet potatoes, peeled and cut into 1″ chunks
1  garlic clove, finely chopped
1 cup water
1/2 cup good olive oil
Juice from one lemon
1 tablespoon oregano
Salt and pepper

Preheat oven to 500°F. Place cut, peeled potatoes into a baking dish large enough for each potato to rest on the bottom. In a bowl (I used a large measuring cup), combine water, olive oil, garlic lemon juice, oregano, and salt and pepper. Mix and pour over potatoes. Cook for 45-50 minutes, or until potatoes are slightly brown on the edged and most of the olive oil has been absorbed. Finish with some sea salt.

The main course: a leg of lamb, grilled for about 15 minutes, until medium rare.

Side #2: Arugula salad with radishes, tomatoes, cucumbers, scallions, and mint. (We added the bulghur later, after we’d served the kids. Kids no like bulghur.)

Before I begin, I just need to get something out.

“Knock it off, Napoleon! Make yourself a dang quesaDILLA!”

Okay, I feel better. And not just because I got to start my Monday cooking post with a movie line. I feel better because of these quesadillas, which are everything to me. They’re all that’s wonderful, good, and holy about quesadillas, but with a breakfast twist. And you can serve ‘em up on a plate with sour cream and pico de gallo as you would for regular quesadillas…or you can just throw wedges at your loved ones as they head out the door. They’re highly portable!

I took a bacon-and-egg approach, but you can change it up and use cooked breakfast sausage or even chorizo, which would be divine.

Let’s go make ourselves a dang quesadilla! Grandma would have wanted it that way.

If you haven’t ever seen Napoleon Dynamite, this headnote might be a little confusing.

And please go watch it today. The secrets of the universe are contained within.

 
Cut a pack o’ bacon in half…

 
 
 
And fry it up until it’s just starting to crisp.

 
 
 
Set it aside on a paper towel, and try—this will be difficult, but do try—not to eat it all before it’s time to assemble the quesadillas.

 
 
 
Next, pour off all the grease…

 
 
 
But don’t clean the skillet! If you do you’ll regret it every day for the rest of your lives!

 
 
 
Next, dice up some onion and bell pepper: I had this orange one, but a mix of red, yellow, and green would be pretty.

 
 
 
Then seed a jalapeno and dice it up.

You can leave out the jalapeno if it frightens you in a breakfast setting.

Jalapenos never frighten me in any setting, though. I want a little pain when I eat. Makes me feel alive!

 
 
 
Melt a little butter in the dirty and delicious skillet over high heat…

 
 
 
Then throw in the veggies!

 
 
 
Cook ‘em around until they’re nice and golden brown and starting to get soft…

 
 
 
Then remove ‘em to a plate and set ‘em aside.

 
 
 
Crack the eggs into a bowl…

 
 
 
Splash in a little half-and-half…

 
 
 
And add salt and pepper.

 
 
 
Poke all the egg yolks to break the membranes…

 
 
 
And whip ‘em until the mixture is totally smooth.

 
 
 
Now, turn the heat down to low and melt a leetle more butter in the same skillet.

 
 
 
Pour in the eggs…

 
 
 
Then use a spatula…

 
 
 
To push the eggs around the skillet as they cook.

 
 
 
This right here is how my father-in-law likes his scrambled eggs.

 
 
 
I like ‘em a little more done myself. Turn off the heat and set ‘em aside when they’re done.

 
 
 
Pico de gallo is a must with quesadillas! Chop up a bunch of tomatoes…

 
 
 
Onions…

 
 
 
And cilantro.

 
 
 
Then dice up a seeded jalapeno…

 
 
 
And slice a lime in half.

 
 
 
Combine all the ingredients in a bowl and squeeze in the lime juice, then sprinkle in a little salt.

 
 
 
Then stir it around until it’s all combined.

 
 
 
And of course, because I love them truly, madly, and deeply, slice a couple of avocados in half…

 
 
 
Scoop out the good stuff…

 
 
 
And cut it into slices.

 
 
 
Now it’s quesadilla time! Plop a small flour tortilla on a buttered skillet or griddle and top it with cheese.

 
 
 
Spoon some of the veggie mixture on top…

 
 
 
Then top it with a nice layer of scrambled eggs.

 
 
 
And next? A circle of bacony goodness…

 
 
 
Another layer of cheese…

 
 
 
And a second tortilla.

Then just let it go over low heat until the bottom layer of cheese is melted.

 
 
 
Meanwhile, get another quesadillas going. For this one, I used a whole wheat tortilla.

 
 
 
Layer of scrambled eggs…

 
 
 
On this one, I did a circle of avocado. Yum!

 
 
 
Another layer of cheese…

 
 
 
A layer of the veggies, then throw on the top tortillas.

 
 
 
Flip both quesadillas and keep cooking on low/medium-low heat until the cheese is all melted and you can’t go another minute without sinking your teeth into these gorgeous creations.

 
 
 
Use a pizza cutter to slice the quesadilla into quarters.

 
 
 
Beautimous!

 
 
 
To serve ‘em up, plop a dollop of sour cream in the middle…

 
 
 
Followed by a pile of pico.

 
 
 
This is life right here.

 
 
 
Here’s the whole wheat version, which means it has no calories.

In my mind.

 
 
 
These are so rich and filling, one or two wedges is enough for most homo sapiens. And they’re portable!

 
 
 
Garsh, this looks good.

 
 
 
Tastes even mo’ better!

Here’s the handy printable:

Recipe

Breakfast Quesdillas

Prep Time:

20 Minutes

Cook Time:

15 Minutes

Difficulty:

Easy

Servings:

6

Print Recipe

Ingredients

• 1 pound Thin Bacon
• Butter
• 1 whole Onion, Diced
• 1 whole Bell Pepper (any Color), Seeded And Diced
• 1 whole Jalapeno, Seeded And Diced
• 8 whole Eggs
• 1/4 cup Half-and-half
• Salt And Pepper, to taste
• 6 whole Tortillas (regular Or Whole Grain)
• 1-1/2 cup Freshly Grated Cheddar And Monterey Jack Cheese
• Avocado Slices (optional)
• Pico De Gallo, For Serving
• Sour Cream For Serving

Preparation Instructions

Note: This recipe makes 3 quesadillas, which should serve 6 people.

Fry the bacon, then remove it to a paper towel-lined plate. Pour off the excess grease.

Return the skillet to the stove over high heat. Add a couple of tablespoons of butter. When it's melted and the skillet is hot, add the onions, bell pepper, and jalapeno. Stir it around and cook until the veggies are starting to soften and turning golden brown. Remove to a plate and set aside. Set the skillet back on the stove over medium-low heat.

Mix together the eggs, half-and-half, and salt and pepper in a bowl. Add 1 tablespoon of butter to the skillet, then pour in the eggs. Scoot the eggs around the skillet with a spatula, cooking slowly, until the eggs are done. Turn off the heat and set aside.

To assemble the quesadillas, place a tortilla on a buttered griddle or skillet over medium-low heat. Add a layer of cheese, a layer of cooked veggies, a layer of bacon slices, a layer of eggs, a layer of avocado, and another layer of cheese. Top with a second tortilla.

Cook on both sides, flipping carefully, until the cheeses are totally melted and filling is hot. Repeat with the other tortillas and ingredients.

Slice the 3 quesadillas into four wedges each. Serve on a plate with sour cream and pico de gallo or salsa (or grab them and head out the door!)

Posted by Ree on April 22 2013

We have had the world's funkiest weather in the Bay Area lately. On Monday my back and shoulders got burned while gardening, and today I'm all snuggled up in a heavy sweater and fuzzy slippers.

I've been getting emails asking for "easier" recipes --- so I dug through the cabinets and freezer and made a delicious and hearty beef stew using ONLY 5 INGREDIENTS!!

I'd totally pat myself on the back, but I'm still burnt...

The Ingredients
serves 6
 
2 pounds beef stew meat
1 (16-ounce) jar southwest salsa (has corn, black beans, onions, tomatoes, chiles)
4 cups beef broth
1 (15-ounce) can garbanzo beans, drained and rinsed
1 cup baby carrots, or chopped carrot

The Directions

Use a 6-quart slow cooker. Put the meat into the bottom of your cooker and add the rest of the ingredients --- there is no need for any other seasoning; the southwest salsa provides plenty of flavor all on it's own. If you can't find this particular kind of salsa, you can certainly add frozen or canned corn or diced potatoes, or anything else you'd like. 
I was trying to keep the ingredient listing to 5, and to not pull out a cutting board, but if you'd like to doctor it up with veggies you have in the house, go for it!
Cover and cook on low for 8 to 10 hours, or until the meat is so tender it falls apart when poked.

Serve with crusty bread and a green salad. I made a loaf of homemade gluten free bread in another slow cooker. I used this recipe, but added sliced garlic cloves, diced onion, and a teaspoon of kosher salt to the batter.

The Verdict

This was a successful meal! I was pleased at how the salsa and beef broth created a fantastic soup base, and was thrilled at how easy this was. It took no time to plop everything into the pot, and because I didn't need to peel or chop vegetables I had plenty of time to whip together the bread dough before leaving the house for the day.
I used a medium salsa, and it really retained it's heat, even when mixed with the broth. If you or your family doesn't like things spicy, opt for mild salsa. You can always add a dash of Tobasco at the end if you'd like a punch of heat.

Not the stew for you? Here are a few more!
Harvest Stew
Azorean Spiced Beef Stew
Sausage and Lentil Stew
Doro Wat (Ethiopian Chicken Stew)
Turkey Stew
Bean Stew (vegetarian)
Chicken and Sweet Potato Southwestern Stew (flop! don't make this!!)
 


 


 

For as long as I can remember my mother has called me “Miss Jenny.” Not all the time and not necessarily in public, but often enough so that I don’t notice unless I really stop and think about it. As an endearing as the little nickname is, I’m convinced my mom started calling me that not to be cute, but because it was part of a bigger plan she had for me.

Right after college, Mom had a roommate named Jane. To the rest of the world, though, Jane was known as “Miss Janey” the host of Pittsburgh’s Romper Room show. She was a celebrity among preschoolers (I feel certain I might hear from a few of you on this one) as well as in the greater Western Pennsylvania region, and to my mom, who at the time had a desk job at U.S. Steel, no one was more glamorous. On top of being a TV star, Miss Janey was warm, witty, and beautiful. Full of life was the term she’d use.  ”Oh Jenny,” my mom would say. “She was just like you.” And just like that I’d imagine myself as Miss Jenny the celebrity TV host.

Moms are smart that way.

There would be more plans. My mother would go out of her way at the Grand Union to point out Geraldine Ferraro on the cover of Newsweek, and tell my sister and me whenever the occasion presented itself: “You could be the first woman Justice of the Supreme Court if you wanted to be.” (Until 1981 at which point we learned we’d have to settle for Second.) My mother made sure to steer me in the direction of some wildcard careers, too, pointing out that I’d make a great eye surgeon because “Oh Jenny, you’re so good with your fingers,” and once even making me sit down to draw a cartoon for the New Yorker because “Oh Jenny, you can draw better than any of these guys.” A real estate lawyer whose idea of fun was (still is) pouring through a densely-typed annotated contract, she didn’t quite grasp that the creative industries could sometimes be a little more complicated than that.

Her relentless career-mapping didn’t stop just because I became a grown-up. If anything, it ramped up. When I was just starting out in magazines — I mean just starting out, like bottom-of-the-barrel starting out — she sent me an article in the New York Times that profiled the newly appointed glamorous editor-in-chief of a super high-end lifestyle magazine. (Back when there were such things.) This editor just had a baby and I remember reps from Prada and Calvin Klein falling all over themselves figuring out what to send the little boy for a gift. The editor was a Big Deal and her appointment was Big News. But according to my mom, whoever hired her for the job had made a mistake by not interviewing me, the girl who was in charge of editing the programming schedule for a cable TV guide.

“You would’ve been perfect for that job, Jenny. She reminded me of you. She sounds just like you.”

And then a few weeks ago, during a cold spell in February, Mom called to tell me that she had just watched someone on the Today show making macaroni and cheese — all in one pot apparently. “Oh you would’ve loved her. She was so natural and funny. I think maybe you should try to watch it. She was sweet. Just a doll. She was just like you.”

The seed she planted that time was probably not what she had hoped for. Instead of unleashing my inner Miss Jenny, I instead found myself obsessing over the idea of a one-pot baked macaroni and cheese. My nine-year-old loves Mac & Cheese but for whatever reason I find myself avoiding a homemade batch because of all the gear involved. I started experimenting, spending more time in the kitchen that I would ever admit to Sandra Day O’Connor (or my mother). I discovered that it was a great recipe for salvaging leftover heels of cheese (almost any combo of hard cheeses worked) and though I never quite pared it down to ONE pot, I streamlined it to the point where all the prep work could be done in the time it took for the pasta to cook. Which means I have that much more time to work on my New Yorker cartoons.

Macaroni & Cheese
The first thing Miss Jenny would like you to know is that you should get that pot of water on the stove to boil immediately. Do it right now and then get the rest of the ingredients organized and prepped. In the end, you should only use two pots. This serves about eight kids (or probably two adults and three kids) and seems like the right kind of thing to make for a slumber party.

1 pound tubular pasta, such as penne rigate shown above
3 tablespoons butter
3 tablespoons flour
1/4 teaspoon paprika
1 teaspoon mustard powder
salt and pepper
1 3/4 cups milk
2 cups grated hard cheese (I used a mix of Parmesan, Cheddar, and aged Gouda Parano because that’s what I had in the fridge)
1/2 cup combination bread crumbs OR panko OR crumbled potato chips, mixed with 1 tablespoon olive oil

Preheat oven to 350°F. Prepare pasta according to package instructions and drain. While it cooks melt the butter in a Dutch Oven over medium heat. Whisk in the flour, paprika, mustard powder, salt, and pepper, then slowly drizzle in the milk, whisking continuously until mixture is smooth. Raise heat a bit and bring to a roiling simmer. Cook until it thickens, about 1 minute. Toss in pasta and cheese. (It might look extra gooey — but that will be absorbed in the oven.)

Sprinkle the top with breadcrumbs and crumbled potato chips and bake for 20-25 minutes until it’s golden on top and bubbly on the sides.

My daughter’s idea of the perfect school lunch. She’ll eat it freezing cold if she has to.

Speaking of mothers, I’ll be at Anderson’s Book Store in Larchmont, NY on May 4 (2:00-4:00), signing books for anyone looking for a nice Mother’s Day gift. For those of you who don’t live in Larchmont, you can always find my book on this thing called the Interweb. As always, I’m happy to send free book plates with a special message. Send requests to jenny AT dinneralovestory DOT com with the subject “Book plate.” Preferably before May 5 to guarantee delivery in time for Mother’s Day on May 12.

I have an uneven history with chef cookbooks. I have learned the hard way more often than I’ve wished to that just because I might enjoy sitting down at someone’s restaurant table does not mean that their work will translate into an enjoyable home cooking experience — you know, one without sous-chefs and dishwashers, plural, at ones disposal, and a customer base footing the bill for the Himalayan pink salt. The best of these books make for wonderful reading and bring the fresh air of a new flavors and tricks into your home cooking routine but the worst, well, yikes. You’re not getting those hours back.

So, despite the fact that I gushed about The Breslin nearly a year ago and also in an interview for Amazon, and even though I’ve fussed over The Spotted Pig, I didn’t even consider picking up chef April Bloomfield’s* book, A Girl and Her Pig because the odds felt slim that it would provide me with anything close to the joy that her cooking does at a dark table in the Ace Hotel, with a grapefruit gin-and-tonic (swoon) in my hand.

... Read the rest of lentil and chickpea salad with feta and tahini on smittenkitchen.com

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We asked for your best photos of your dogs, and the images are still galloping in like unleashed corgies. As of this writing, you've shared more than 640 great photos and stories, each one a treasure. Here are 50,...

I do not want another second to go by without letting you know that after years of major hint-dropping on Andy’s part — much of it public (see #65) — you’ll be happy to hear that the DALShouse is finally home to a brand new 2-speed TurboBlend Vitamix 1782. I’ll let my husband go deep on this in a few days, but I will say that every morning since unwrapping the blender for his birthday last week, Andy has entered the kitchen, assembled his fruit, yogurt, ice, and exotic juices, then flipped the switch while summoning all of us to stop what we are doing. “LISTEN TO THAT!” he’ll shout, as if we would be able to listen to anything BUT the Vitamix whinnying at full tilt. On another afternoon while Andy was at work, I texted him a picture of the apple-papaya-pineapple-ginger juice I made in the Vitamix, noting to my astonishment that it absolutely pulverized a 1-inch knob of ginger beyond recognition. His response? “Tell me more.” The point is: I nailed the birthday present this year. Not even Abby calling from upstairs “Mom! Help me bring down the blender so Daddy can open it!” could have detracted from this long-awaited moment of smoothie-phile euphoria.

Compelling though it may be, the Vitamix was not supposed to be the story here. (How did that just happen?) The story is supposed to be what we had alongside the Vitamix-engineered smoothie that morning: The beautiful sausage-egg-and-cheese biscuit you’re looking at up top. Somewhere along the way, gift opening (which is every bit as exciting for the kids when they’re not even doing the opening) started to take place during breakfast hour in our house. It’s almost like Christmas — as though they just can’t fathom waiting until the afternoon or dinner…or even til their parents are officially caffeinated to tear into the loot. Which is all fine, but it just felt wrong not to connect all this flying giftwrap and screaming to some kind of food ritual. For a weekday birthday that usually means chocolate chips tucked into toaster waffle divets, a candle sticking out of a pancake, a piece of heart-shaped toast – but God help us if the birthday falls on a weekend.  The celebration automatically escalates to a bonafide sit-down affair  with things like French toast and almond-spiked freshly whipped cream. Or, in last week’s case, these sausage-egg-and-cheese biscuits, which we didn’t mean to make entirely from scratch (including the sausages!) but…well, did we tell you how we feel about birthdays? (Why wouldn’t we go all out?) The best thing about the sandwich, besides how buttery and delicious it is, and besides the fact that it’s one of Andy’s most favorite morning treats? We woke up to Phoebe forming and frying the sausage patties with her own two hands. At 7:00 AM, she was already way ahead of us.

Sausage, Egg, & Cheese Biscuit
I didn’t initially set out to make my own biscuits, but when I opened the freezer and realized those Trader Joe’s frozen heat-n-serve numbers were gone, I had no choice but to search for a quick recipe. Which is tougher than it sounds when you don’t have buttermilk (and when you short-circuit at the sight of the word “knead”). The sausage recipe is adapted from one in Rozanne Gold’s Kids Cook 1-2-3 which remains our favorite children’s cookbook ever.  And regarding the cheese: only drippy, fakey American will do.

For Biscuits [OR just pick up some storebought biscuits]

1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
2 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon coarse salt
6 tablespoons (3/4 stick) chilled unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
3/4 cup milk

Preheat the oven to 450°F. Grease a baking sheet or line with a silpat.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt. Using a fork, combine the butter and flour mixture until it resembles a coarse meal. Slowly add the milk, stirring with a fork, to the desired consistency.

Turn the dough out onto a clean, lightly floured surface and gently knead just to bring the dough together. Roll out the dough about 3/4 inch thick. Using a biscuit cutter or sturdy glass, cut about 12 biscuits, rerolling any scraps or just smushing a few flat with your hands as I did. Place on the baking sheet. Bake the biscuits for 13 to 15 minutes until golden brown. Serve warm.

For Sausage Patties:

1/2 pound ground turkey
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cumin
1/4 teaspoon ground pepper
1 small garlic clove, pressed or very finely minced

Add all ingredients to a medium bowl and mix using a fork. Using your hands, form 6 flat patties. Place a large skillet over medium-high heat until hot. Cook until browned, about 2 minutes. Repeat on the flip side. (If patties are too thick, slice horizontally.) Freeze any leftovers.

For Egg

Add butter or olive oil to a large skillet set over medium heat. Whisk together 3 eggs with a little salt and black pepper and pour into heated pan like a very large pancake. Heat until underside is cooked, about 1 minute. Try to flip all in one piece (you may need two spatulas for this) and cook the other side for an additional minute. Turn egg pancake onto a clean surface and, using the top of a glass (similar in size to the one you used for your biscuits), cut out three or four “egg discs.”

For sandwich:

Place one sausage patty and one egg disk on a biscuit and drape a slice of American cheese on top. (You might want to trim the slice slightly.) Heat under the broiler for one minute, or until the cheese melts. Top with another biscuit.