Chickpea and Rosemary Frittatas

... did you see how it rains,
feel how it's coming down
and you were saying that it had stopped raining...
(L. Cherubini, Piove)

The fat is in the fire. Dismantled heart, weakened bones, and twisted guts. Lovers to the core. And when the fat is in the fire - damn it - there is no going back.
Don't call it focaccia (... uh... I think I owe you some kind of explanation here: the recipe comes from this delicious book, bought used for $2; one of the most surprisingly well-chosen purchases of my glorious career as foodblogger, except for the fact that in the book these round things here, the subject of my daily post, they are called focacce; but NO!!!, I cannot do this, I just cannot accept it, and I know that among you are those who understand...).
So don't call it focaccia. Because it's a frittata. And it's done. The fat is in the fire.


Chickpea and Rosemary Frittata
for 6 frittatas of about 7" diameter

chickpea flour 90 gr
eggs 3
milk 240 ml - 1 cup
olive oil 1 tablespoon
fresh rosemary 2-3 sprigs
salt, pepper, butter as needed

Whisk the eggs in a bowl. Add the flour a little at a time, always whisking and trying to avoid lumps. Incorporate oil, milk and chopped rosemary. Season with salt and pepper.
Melt very little butter in a small crepes pan of approximately 7" diameter. Pour in just enough of the mixture to cover the bottom, and cook for a couple of minutes until set. Flip the frittata using a spatula and cook the other side for slightly less than one minute.
Repeat for the remaining frittatas, until you run out of mixture. Serve hot ot warm.

P.S: to tell you the truth, I wouldn't even call these frittatas, as they really are too thin to qualify as such. They are little round things. Infused with love and rosemary. Things so damn round and complete that everything else doesn't count anymore.

Photo (Sun)Day: Eggs

But what about the chocolate ones?

Filipino Salted Eggs

Check out what I found this morning at the Farmers' Market. I don't know about you, but I've never seen these futuristic eggs before.
I was walking around between the usual kiwis, cauliflowers, potatoes and grapes, when all of a sudden I caught a glimpse of something pink emerging from the booths. Pink??? Whatever it is, it has to be mine!
They told me that these are salted duck eggs, a traditional delicacy from the Philippines, where they are often sold by street vendors. To make them, you need to let them sit for few weeks in a solution made of water and plenty of salt, then you boil them with some red food coloring, so that they can be distinguished from regular eggs.
I don't quite know how to use them yet, but one thing for sure: now when I open the fridge, all of a sudden oranges seem pale, pomegranates dull, and apples faded.
Help!

Chinese Tea Eggs

It's not Easter and it's not even Chinese New Year. But I couldn't wait that long to try these gorgeous eggs. After all, I've read that in China they eat them regularly as a simple snack and millions of them are sold each day, not only in specialty stores but also in common markets and street food carts.
I remember seeing them here, soaking in big pots in some of the dim sum places in Chinatown. But to be honest, looking at deep brown eggs floating freely in a black liquid has always sort of scared me. I could have never imagined that hidden inside that dark wrapping one would find such a marvelous thing. Never judge by appearances...
Yet, I kept thinking of a special occasion for this photogenic dish. And why not? I decided I want to celebrate my almost new born blog, which is approximately, about, more or less one month old!
Congratulations and a sincere thank you to those of you who support me.


Chinese Tea Eggs

eggs 6
soy sauce approximately 1/2 glass
black tea leaves 2 tablespoons
salt 1 teaspoon
sugar 2 teaspoons
cinnamon stick 1
star anise 3
cracked peppercorns, orange zest, gingerto taste

Put eggs in a pot with enough water to cover them. Bring to boil, then let cook for 3 minutes.
Remove eggs from the pan, keeping their water, and cool down by placing them in a large bowl filled with cold water.
Crack the eggshell by tapping gently with a knife. Tap until the shell is fragmented all over, but be careful to keep it intact. The more you're able to fragment the shell, the deeper the marble effect.
Add all other ingredients to the cooking water, stir well and place the eggs back in. Bring to boil one more time, lower the heat and cover with lid. Simmer for 1 to 3 hours, adding more water if needed to keep the eggs always covered. The longer you let them simmer, the more intense their color and flavour. I reached a sort of compromise, simmering for approximately one hour and a half and then letting them soak in the same water overnight.
I was really curious to try them and I've been pleasantly surprised with the spiced and peculiar taste. On the side, I made a salad with thinly sliced white cabbage, dressed with toasted sesame oil, soy sauce and white vinegar, and sprinkled with a generous amount of black sesame seeds.