Breaking the Law Never Tasted So Good

A work friend of Matt’s and his wife are harboring three illegals on their property.  They’ve got them sleeping in a shed at night, subsisting on grain, water, and whatever vegetal/grub matter they can scrounge in their little fenced-in area during the day. We get to meet them soon, and I can’t wait, because before they arrived we spent an sunny afternoon building them a nesting box out of scrap wood and sheer luck and the Pythagorean theorem. (I promise you will use math after high school.  But only when your smart phone battery dies).

In reality, raising chickens in your backyard in JP isn’t illegal, just “forbidden.” But our friends made sure all their neighbors were agreeable to a new brood in the vicinity, and confirmed before purchasing that there wouldn’t be any surprise roosters greeting the dawn’s early light. They constructed the most beautiful little hen house out of an old shed. (And in that shed is housed our first and only masterpiece of DIY projects, that mathematically-correct nesting box).

It made sense to give a nod to the illicit nature of owning chickens in Boston city limits by naming one after the half-smile handsomest Law-avoider of them all: The Fugitive.

World, meet Dr. Richard Kimble:

Just like her film star counterpart, Dr. Kimble doesn’t waste no time.  She laid two eggs within 48 hours of arriving at her new home.  Unlike her film star counterpart, Dr. Kimble doesn’t have blend-in-with-the-crowd skills, unless the crowd is composed of lots of brown feather dusters. She’s a bearded black silkie, and if you really want to have an awesome Friday, spend a few times looking at her distant relatives here.

We’re excited for our friends and their new trio of forbidden chickens, who are obviously right at home in their awesome custom-built coop and run. Can’t wait to taste those eggies!

Breakfast of (Happily Aging) Champions

Once upon a time, when we went to a concert, we were usually late for the first set, dancing like fools through the second, and roaring with everyone else for an encore after the third. We’d jostle with the clumsy crowd for a cab to head to the next night spot, united in musical camaraderie, ears ringing straight through until Tuesday.

These days, things are a bit different. We don’t always row-hop.  We pick our favorite beer on draft, instead of the cheapest. We wear EARPLUGS.  The dancing like fools part is still de rigueur — this past Friday night several members of a much younger generation gawked at the Mr.’s moves, rather than the other way around. And I don’t expect that part will change until osteoporosis sets in.  But we left before the encore, smug in the wisdom of catching an early cab in the pouring rain instead of fighting the masses for one.  I will admit the smugness wrestled some with embarrassment as we weaved through the rows, because we all know it’s a little lame to leave before the true end.  Especially when it’s just barely 11 p.m.  Especially because the place the cab is taking you to is…your apartment.

Younger me would have scoffed at current me and the changes that have taken place in only a few years.  But current me gets to wake up to the smell of frying bacon and the Mr. wielding a cast iron skillet at the stove.  Younger me probably would have been at the dining hall with a limp and rubbery bacon, egg and cheese, served up with a side of splitting headache.  Both of us would have consumed our breakfast in pajamas though. Some things never change.

Breakfast of Champions
(by the Mr.)

Extra virgin olive oil
2 strips good quality bacon, chopped into small pieces

1/2 of a medium-sized onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, smashed and peeled
2 small to medium potatoes, in small dice
Red pepper flakes (hefty pinch)
Salt and pepper
Cilantro (if desired)

Heat cast iron skillet. Add olive oil, and when it is warm, add garlic and red pepper flakes.  Let cook , and add bacon before the garlic starts to brown.  Turn heat to low, and cook another 2-3 minutes.  Add onion, a pinch of salt, and continue to cook at low heat until onion is translucent and bacon is crispy.

Using a slotted spoon, remove the contents of the pan to a small bowl, leaving the oils behind.  Add potato, and cook on low heat.  Be patient at this step – let the potato sit without stirring so it forms a good crust.  It will release from the pan when the crust is formed.  Once it has, stir and continue to cook until most of the potato dice sides have a brown edge.

Add the garlic, bacon and onion mixture back into the pan and turn the heat to medium.  Crack three eggs on top and sprinkle a little more salt and pepper on the eggs.  Continue to cook until the yolks have begun to set, approximately 1.5-2 minutes.

Finish cooking under a preheated broiler until the whites are no longer opaque (approximately 2 minutes).  This should yield slightly runny yolks.

Serve with some hot sauce on the side, and chopped cilantro on top, if desired.  A few more strips of bacon on the side won’t hurt the deliciousness level either.

To make this healthier, don’t eat a lot of crap for the rest of the day, and/or serve with something you made in the juicer. Also, don’t worry about it. It’s Saturday morning.

(Sidenote: The Pretty Lights concert was good, once you overlooked all the kids in bunny ears and tutus, which is easy to do when you’ve crafted a belt for yourself out of reject glow-sticks.  Pretty Lights does a decent, slightly frustrating remix of Pink Floyd’s “Time.”  I guess I am getting older — I kept wanting the record scratches to stop and the actual song to continue, because why remix genius?)