Thankful for Thanksgiving Breakfast
|November 27, 2011||Posted by Ashley Marie under A.M., Food, Holiday|
Unlike most of the world, I was working on Thanksgiving evening, slaving away for the poor guests who had the unfortunate circumstance of staying at a hotel and eating Ahi Tuna Tacos for dinner. Ok, that’s not completely true. I did make tacos for a guest, but other than that, my night was uneventful, to say the least. And I also wasn’t the only poor soul who had to drag myself to that magical place I call a job. What about the people who have to keep an entire hotel up and running, from the foodstaff, to the housekeepers, to the electrical engineers, even when the occupancy is at its lowest? Or those in the medical field who have to continue to respond to emergencies (like fires induced by inexperienced turkey deep-frying family members)? And the people who have to report the nightly news? And by golly, what about the retail staff who had to work at midnight this year for Black Friday shoppers? Man, they all just don’t get enough credit. No matter what time of day, working on Thanksgiving, or any holiday for that matter, just plain ol’ sucks.
So when I was bombarded with questions on Friday, like How was your Thanksgiving? and Did you eat any turkey? and What did you and your family cook for dinner?, I, at minimum, could tell them about the monstrosity of a meal that we called Thanksgiving Breakfast. Yes, we have created a new tradition. Considering that the year before I happened to have the evening off and we still went out to eat in an effort to avoid standing in the kitchen for hours (after standing in the kitchen for 8 hours) and washing a shit ton of dishes (shit ton [shit tuhn]: a helluva lot of something; a gargantuas amount). And the year before that, well, I had to work. Sooo, this year we decided to do a nice large breakfast. Mr. Picky had to hop on a plane in the late afternoon (to…you guessed it! Work!) so we jumped in the car and hitched it to my mom’s house first thing.
On the menu: Seared Bone-In Pork Chops, Bacon & Chive Risotto, Warm Biscuits with Sweet Potato Jam, Scrambled Eggs, St. Germaine Mimosas.
It was a feast, to say the least. But boy, did we do it in fashion. The chops were almost an inch thick, perfectly seasoned with nothing but s&p and cooked to a juicy pink. The risotto was speckled with maple-smoked bacon pieces and full of vibrant green oniony chives. The biscuits had sweet jam, and you already know how I feel about that. And those mimosas. Those damn mimosas. The key is to not drink any champagne before you eat something. But imbibing while cooking is just so damn fun. So we did it anyway. My sweet love affair with elderflower liquor came into play, and we danced all morning long until the afternoon came and I sat on the couch and football came on and I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Turns out, Thanksgiving Breakfast isn’t such a bad idea at all. Next year, I hope to entertain a few more people, which of course, means more food. But in the meantime, try out some Bacon & Chive Risotto for breakfast. It’s the bees knees (bees knees [beez neez]: (older slang, especially in the 1920s) a person or thing that is wonderful, great, or marvelous).
1 box instant risotto (makes for a quicker breakfast!), like Lundberg’s Creamy Parmesan
6 ounces bacon, preferably maple- or apple-smoked, chopped
1 each shallot, minced
1 large bunch chives, thinly sliced
1/4 cup dry white cooking wine, like Chardonnay
About 2 cups chicken stock (optional)
Place chopped bacon in a medium pot over medium-high heat. Render the bacon down until crispy. Pour out about half of the fat, and add the shallots. Cook for about a minute and then add the boxed rice and any seasonings that come with. Stir the rice around and saute for just another minute. Deglaze with the white wine and cook until the liquid is almost all gone. Continue to follow the boxed instructions, adding the water (or chicken stock, if desired) and cook the risotto for about 20 minutes, or until tender, stirring occasionally. When ready to serve, fold in the chives.