I had a pretty strong response to my 15 Best Things I Ate In Singapore, with one exception. Nobody seems to think the half-boiled eggs one orders with kaya toast look particularly appetizing. In fact, I’ve heard comments to the tune of “Everything looked great, Jess! Except those jiggly nasty eggs. Those are wack.”
They are not wack, thank you very much. They were awesome. But I do have an insatiable love of eggs I believe I demonstrated last night by making at jetlag omelet at 4AM. I don’t require a certain level of firmness. The softer the scramble, the more French I feel. Like ’em soft boiled? Good, I made toast soldiers that aren’t getting any braver. One of my favorite sauces for a steak is like a Bearnaise, but eggier — just yolks whisked over a double-boiler with a little vinegar until creamy. I am down with the liquid yolk.
But I know enough people who won’t eat eggs, period, to expect many to join in on this particular brand of fun. So for lunch today I’m going to take a firm and friendly way to consume eggs — quiche — and turn it into less quiche and more pasta filling, ak.a. ricotta pie. Sound better?
Fill a 9-inch pie crust with a mixture of 16 ounces of ricotta (this is a great time to make your own), 8 ounces of shredded mozzarella, 6 ounces of grated Parmesan and 3 well-beaten eggs. You won’t even know they’re there, promise. Then add your choice or a strategic combo of the following:
- A few handfuls of chopped spinach, wilted in a hot pan with some butter
- A cup of chopped sun-dried or oven-roasted tomatoes
- A cup of well-drained chopped artichoke hearts
- Tons of caramelized onions
- Cooked, crumbled bacon or chopped ham
- Finely chopped fresh herbs
Load mixture into pie crust and bake at 350 degrees for an hour or until the top is lightly browned, then let rest for about 15 minutes before serving. It’s surprisingly good at room temperature if your office is full of microwave/toaster oven hogs (ahem) and requires nothing more than a salad to go along with it.
Now stop hating on my jiggly eggs. I’m allowed to be obsessed. My parents currently own a dozen chickens and have tried, in their misguided affection, to mail me their substitute babies’ labors of love. Once you’ve had one of those medium-rare, there’s just no going back to hard-boiled.
More eggs for lunch on Food Republic: