These are some recipes (usually successful) that I've enjoyed. ...and then there are the Thai-Food-In-D.C. brownies.
This one is kind of general (I fear this will become a trend, as it's pretty much the way I cook.) I'm also a cheater, and I use a pre-made pie crust. I've done homemade, certainly, but I've never found the return on energies expended to make it all worthwhile.
First things first. I like to brown my crust slightly before I put my quiche in it. I dunno why, but it makes me happy and it seems to work relatively well. So.
While you're doing that, you'll want to start chopping. Unless your vegetable of choice was spinach which came pre-chopped in a package and you aren't using any others in combination, you'll probably have to chop things up a bit to get them manageable. And hey, even if it is nothing but spinach you still have onions to chop, so get that knife out, chop chop. Er. Yes.
Now is the step where you forget about the crust in the oven and decide to get all the prep work done at this unexpectedly inopportune time, so you may as well start grating your cheese. Fabulous.
Now you've chopped your vegetables, and, if you're me, you've also presumably over-browned your pie crust, realised this quite suddenly, and darted toward the oven without oven mitts, cursing. Go you.
Pick up the damned oven mitts this time, and take out the crust, but leave the oven on so that it's preheated to three seventy five, or thereabouts. You know your oven better than I do (and possibly better than I do mine), so you'll have to be a bit discriminating. Take the pie crust out and stick it on the stove in a position where it may lie in wait to burn you. Eeeexcellent. Now on to the eggs.
Crack the eggs all into one bowl. If you're smarter than I am, you'll have picked out a bowl which will both a) fit all five eggs, and b) allow some extra room for you to mix them in. You lucky bastard. Add your bit of milk or cream and beat beat beat. You'll probably also want to add some spices. Salt and pepper would be the obvious, but since this is one of my recipes, I'm liable to suggest oregano, basil and garlic instead. Mmmm, garlic.
At this point you'll want to put your oniony-type-whatever-it-is in the bottom of your pie crust with a bit of your cheese (maybe a quarter - not too much, really). I don't know why you want to do this, but you do and it will make me happy. You'll then put your chopped vegetables of whatever variety in, and procede to cover this whole thing in your egg mixture. Top with the rest of your cheese and you'll be ready for the long, dark oven-cooking of the soul. Er, quiche. Please, please, please take this time to look at a clock or set a timer so that you'll not forget about the damned quiche and go out for Thai food. I appreciate that, thank you.
Theoretically it is now about an hour or so later and the perfect time to take your quiche out of the oven. You'll want to grab a knife or particularly long toothpick or something to check, though. You do know how to do that, right? Good, because I'm not demonstrating for fear I'll end up in cheesy eggness to the elbow on the floor of the kitchen in a heap with you laughing. Don't think I'm not on to you, you bastard. Ahem.
Anyhow, as I was saying, we should be done now, and we will remove the quiche from the oven, then TURN OFF THE OVEN, if you are not me. If you are me, you'll leave the oven on, then come back a day or three later and wonder why your apartment is so warm.
Another great idea right now is to let your quiche cool for at least ten minutes. This will ensure that your quiche remains warm, tasty, delicious and not pain-inducing. Three guesses why I'd know that, eh? Your fate is now in your own hands, and I hope you enjoy your quiche.
This recipe requires outside assistance in the way of: one friend for distraction's sake, a lack of real food in the house, and finally a lack of patience on both you and your friend's parts. With luck and some guidance, your brownies will be just as much of a notorious, embarassing disaster as mine!
First you'll want to preheat your oven to three fifty. Next you'll take your mix and stick it in a bowl. Now you'll add some yoghurt, but not pay attention to the amount the mix tells you is ideal. Then you'll add vanilla after the fact when you suddenly realise that plain!=vanilla. When everything is stiff and difficult to mix, you'll want to pour in too many chocolate chips and distribute them evenly. Good luck, scout.
Now you'll want to put it in your pan, hopefully after you've remembered to grease it, but making no promises. As it turns out later, you won't really find it a concern after all.
Now take note of the time.
Procede to engage in a very long discussion with your friend. After about twenty minutes, you should both begin to note that you are hungry, but it will as yet be too early for the brownie aroma to really strike you. A good idea at this point would be to decide to go halfway across the city and get Thai food. Mm, Thai food.
Get to the restaurant. Order drinks. Receive said drinks, and compose your dinner orders.
Just before your waiter arrives to take your order, realise that you've left the brownies in the oven. Note that in the time it will take you to get back, even if you leave now they'll be dead. Decide to live dangerously.
Finish your dinner at a casual pace. Metro back across the city. Step into your apartment. Notice the refreshing lack of dense smoke. Thank the gods for your open back door. Procede to remove the brownies from the oven, noting the exquisitely dark colour and distinct odour. Decide to let the brownies cool a bit before you try to clean the poor pan.
Go to clean the pan. Discover that upon letting it cool, it has developed a texture which can most accurately be likened to slate. Attempt to remove most of the brownie-thing with your hands, and come very close to cutting yourself on the brownies. Set brownies aside to soak for roughly six months.
Wasn't that rewarding?
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