the arugula files

Breakfast at Ted's Bulletin (Plus the Comeback of the Poptart)

Let me get right to the point: thick-cut applewood smoked bacon–perfectly cooked.  Crisp, but pliable, fatty, but not greasy, salty and delicious. The bacon at Ted's Bulletin was the best I've tasted in recent memory. And, ooohh, the hash browns: crispy and light.  My omelet was tasty, but the egg-to-filling ratio was off. Less eggs and more spinach and mushrooms, please.   I enjoyed my meal, but not everything was a hit.  A bite of my friend's breakfast burrito, highly recommended by the waitress, was a little bland (though my friend seemed pleased with it).

Baba Ganoush (An Eggplant Recipe That is Easy, Breezy, Beautiful)

Eggplant is the the Lindsey Lohan of summer gardens.   So much potential, but we all fear working with it. And what a reputation: unpredictable, fussy, and difficult.  People talk.  Eggplant has been called every bad word in the foodie dictionary: soggy, bitter, greasy, bland, watery, dry, chewy, mushy, and, yes, even sweaty. 

So why bother with eggplant? 

5 Reasons to Shop at H Street Farmers Market

After visiting a friend for breakfast on the Hill this weekend, I decided to check out the H Street Farmers Market.  I filled my bags with heirloom tomatoes, peaches, kalamata olive bread, feta cheese, and a big slab of blueberry pie.  Oh my. 

Uncle Sonny's Garden (Plus What Happened to the Groundhog that Ate My Aunt's Beans)

July was a busy month.  I traveled to Seattle, Portland, Boston, Hartford, New York City, and the Eastern Shore of Maryland.  That didn't leave me much time in the kitchen.  My Boston trip was one of the highlights because I visited my parents, brother, niece, and my Aunt Franny and Uncle Sonny.  Here's a quick tour of Uncle Sonny's AWESOME garden.  Wait, have you not met my Uncle Sonny?  Please shake hands with him here or here.

In Season: Figs

My lovely brother in law, Nestor, owns a fixer upper on the Eastern Shore of Maryland.  He's been slowly rehabbing the house, with hopes to retire there some time in the future.  It's a long drive from DC, sitting in beach traffic with hundreds of others seeking sun and a slower days.  His house isn't much to speak of yet.  It has lovely bones and because it was built a long time ago it is falling apart at the seems.  It will take years before it's ready for a rocking chair on the front porch.  But meanwhile, oh, the fig trees.  They surround the house, offering a little shade and something to sweeten the deal.  This weekend Nestor brought me a platter of figs, dozens of them.  I almost fell over when I saw them.  Worth at least five Hamiltons here on the western shore. It makes me laugh about how plentiful these things are there and about how all us city dwellers pay through the nose for them when we see them at the farmers market.  Makes me think I should give up on this crazy, fast paced life, buy a fixer upper, and forget about things like iPhones and iPads and everything in between.

I plan to make fig pizza and some fig jam. 

I'm thrilled.