Fridge Frittata and a Story



It's really quite ridiculous that I'm even posting a recipe like this.  I bet you have thought of making this in some incarnation or another about a million times.  You've probably  gone through with it and actually prepared the thing maybe about a thousand times.  It's so easy and basic that I feel kinda silly but the truth is that it's all I've got.  Another truth is that I really need to break the ice, break the silence, break the break and pump something out.
Our house being in total chaos - and the large part of that chaos being the kitchen - for the entire summer has just derailed me.  My summer was sanding and staining and taping and painting and trying to find some sanity while not being able to make a morning coffee.  The good news is that the kitchen is done.  I can now make my morning coffee.  I only make it on the weekends though because I truly believe that morning coffee is a ritual that is sacred enough not to be rushed.  Rushed is the only way that morning coffee will happen throughout the workweek.

Is there anyone out there without a potato somewhere in their kitchen?
This recipe is easy enough that you can use whatever veggies you have in your house, you will pretty much be guaranteed to have the other ingredients just about all of the time and lastly, you really have to try hard to screw it up.  Even though I'm back in my kitchen it doesn't feel like my kitchen quite yet - although I'm getting there. Generally, I'm going with some easy, quick and comfortable recipes.  When I'm not making this kind of thing, I'm pretty much either snacking on toast, chips or going out for something.
And this brings me to the story portion of this post.  Last week, on labour day monday to be exact, I took the kids out in a fit of starving, exhausted, desperation.  We went to The Wren (a fantastic little spot about 10 min's walk from my front door with great food and a fantastic craft beer selection).  I happen to read this blog on a regular basis and the blogger also frequents The Wren so every time I'm there I always kinda scan the place just out of interest to see if she might be there.  So I'm sitting with my two kids trying to be sane and sip my beer when who sits down at the large table right beside me but the Yum Yum Factor Lady (at least that what I call her in my head).  I tell the kids while trying to be inconspicuous.  Kid #2 is 8 and hungry and couldn't give a rip and probably didn't even hear what I was going on about.  Kid #1 is riveted and tells me I should say something.  She also tells me that if she can text Misha Collins (?) and some other actor guy that is super important to her about something or other.... well then I can certainly walk up to someone (now I did make the point here that in person and on line are two very different things) and tell them that I like their work.  Truthfully, I felt weird about it but I thought about how I would feel if someone walked up to me and told me that they really liked my blog.  I would be thrilled (I think) and flattered (definitely) and not weirded out at all (unless they proceeded to do something weird or confusing).  So I strategized with kid #1.  She took kid #2 outside once we were done and I - very naturally, politely and casually - interrupted the Yum Yum Factor Lady's meal by telling her how much I loved her blog.  I think that she was happy and asked to take a picture with me.  Kids #1 and #2 stared very conspicuously through the front window.  If you want to see the picture go here (she looks sassy and cool in the hat - I'm the other one)
The moral of this story:
1. Tell people when you like them, their work or their hat.
2. Post more shit on the blog so that maybe someday someone out there will feel inspired enough to introduce themselves to me if they see me somewhere.
3. Go to The Wren.

Still playing with (ie. screwing up) a 35mm camera lens which was an Awesome Gift from D.  My pictures are not happy.
Fridge Frittata
serves 4

3 - 4 med potatoes, washed and cut into 1/2 inch thick slices (very approximate)
1 red or yellow pepper, coarsely diced
1/2 cup onion, coarsely diced
2 lg cloves garlic, crushed
2 cups milk
4 egg whites (you can simply add 3 extra eggs if you don't have egg whites from ice cream hanging around)
4 eggs
1 1/2 tsp salt
1 tbsp each - dried basil, marjoram and parsley
2 tbsp worcestershire sauce
1 tbsp soy sauce
1 tsp pepper sauce (optional)
1 1/2 cups cheddar, shredded
1 med tomato, sliced into 1/3 inch slices

Preheat oven to 375°F
Boil potatoes for about 6 minutes, drain and set aside
Heat a large caste iron (i.e. something big that can go straight to the oven) skillet over medium heat.
Add some oil or fat.
Throw in the pepper, onion and garlic.  Cool for about 4 minutes and turn the heat off.
In a large bowl combine the milk, egg whites, egg, salt, herbs, worcestershire, soy sauce and pepper sauce.  Whisk until fully combined and set aside.
Mix the drained potatoes with the cooked vegetables until they are mixed up well.
Sprinkle the cheese over it all.
Pour the milk mixture over that (it should cover everything)
Place the tomato slices on top and push them down just a little.
Bake for about 40 - 45 minutes or until golden brown and bubbling.  The middle should not be liquid.
Cool for about 10 minutes before serving.

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St Michael's Choir School is celebrating it's 75th anniversary year of service to St Michael's Cathedral. Part of the school celebration is a trip to Italy where our boys from Grades 5 - 12 will be performing and celebrating Mass. This blog will be chronicling our adventures. Wanda Thorne is the Vocal Coach at St Michael's Choir School. Gerard Lewis is the Grade 7/8 Homeroom teacher at the Choir School.

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Wanda Thorne
St Michael's Choir School is celebrating it's 75th anniversary year of service to St Michael's Cathedral. Part of the school celebration is a trip to Italy where our boys from Grades 5 - 12 will be performing and celebrating Mass. This blog will be chronicling our adventures. Wanda Thorne is the Vocal Coach at St Michael's Choir School. Gerard Lewis is the Grade 7/8 Homeroom teacher at the Choir School.
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