Recently I was watching a television show where a so-called chef (actor playing one) recommended whirring eggs in a blender before adding them to a recipe. This just seemed crazy to me. The reason given was that they wanted them “foamy”.  But all the old-wives’ logic that I have lodged in my brain screamed: WRONG.

Eggs get tough and rubbery if they are handled rough. This means, don’t whir them in a blender, and don’t cook them on high heat. You don’t want to eat rubber eggs. Yuck.

Eggs have three distinct parts: shell, white and yolk.  The white is water and protein (90% /10%).   The yolk is water, fat and protein.   (74%/11.8%/12.8%)

If you want a lot of foam, you can separate the white and the yolk. Egg whites will turn into a lovely foam if you whip them long enough (even better if you add a little cream of tartar, a few drops of vinegar or lemon juice — the addition of acid helps to smooth out and lengthen the protein molecules, to make them stronger).  Room temperature egg whites fluff up better than chilled ones. There is a very fine line between beaten stiff (so that you can pull out the whisk and you see Alpine mountain peaks) and beaten dry (when they still make mountain peaks, but you’ve beaten the hell out of them and they’ve broken their will to live.)  Over-beaten egg whites develop a grainy quality, and instead of being glistening like a fresh dew drop, they will be dull and listless.  Their texture is just wrong, and if one is making a souffle or a sponge cake (from scratch) the trapped air bubbles won’t be as strong, and are more likely to fail in baking. (Spoiler alert: a deflated souffle, or a lopsided cake.)

By whipping the eggs, the chemistry behind it, is that you are really untangling the protein molecules. They bump around into each other, and the proteins uncurl exposing the (previously) protected sticky amino acids. These lock together and trap air bubbles between the bonds which keeps the air bubbles from easily popping or escaping. But these bonds become weak with too much bump action.

This all egg white whipping works best in a very clean metal or glass bowl with no fat residue (which is why plastic is out. Plastic attracts fat molecules. No matter how much you clean the bowl, there will still be a fat residue on the surface).

Copper bowls are the best choice, but that’s all about another chemical reaction. Copper ions migrate from the bowl into the egg whites, and forms conalbumin…blah blah blah. Not going into that right now.

Fat will block the egg whites from trapping air bubbles — which is why trying to make “fluffy” whole eggs is just crazy.  It makes no sense, especially scientifically.  The fats from the egg yolk get in the way. The truth is, even a teeny-tiny, small speck of egg yolk left in the white while separating the two will keep an egg white from ever achieving “stiff peaks”.  Doesn’t take much.

Which is where the old wives recommendations in a multitude of old cookbooks comes in.  The books from the late 1800’s though much of the 1900’s were always concerned with the “tenderness” of a cooked egg so the instructions were repeated, consistently: no salt; barely beating; and, low heat.  The old recipes recommended barely whisking a whole egg, until the white and yolk blended evenly. Other recipes call for no mixing of the two, just break the yolk.  There are lots of cooking science reasons for this.

I’d rather listen to the old wives, who probably cooked more eggs than I will ever will cook in my lifetime — and heed their warnings, than pay attention to some script writer, or some blog post that says “throw it in the blender and wizz away..”   Nope. Not going there.

Now if you really want to get a really fluffy whole eggs, beat the egg whites until you get stiff peaks, then carefully fold a broken egg yolk into the mixture until blended, and then slip the whole thing into a pan with an ample amount of melted butter to make a beautiful fluffy omelette (souffle omelette), or to make light airy scrambled eggs.  Or even, fold some finely grated cheese to the beaten whites and slide those into the waiting heated pan, press a spoon in the center to make and indentation, and the carefully deposit an unbroken yolk into the center of the egg white cloud. Cover, and cook on a low heat until the yolk is just slightly clouded over.

There are lots of recipes to experiment with that use a stiff beaten egg white, and the egg yolk. There should be no egg recipes that involve beating the crap out of an egg in a blender.

Never use a blender to beat eggs. Use a fork (for lightly blended eggs), a whisk, or if you have a lot of eggs, a hand mixer.  And, I don’t care what some websites say, or what some actress playing a chef in a sitcom says — they’re wrong.

Chef Fernand Point, long considered the father of nouvelle cuisine, was a great chef and an undisputed genius of technique. He revolutionized some aspects of French gastronomy in building on traditions handed down and in creating his own versions of classic dishes. He opened a legendary restaurant (La Pyramide) halfway between Paris and the Riviera that was a Mecca for celebrities, serious gourmets, and chefs from around the globe. Those influenced by his techniques include Paul Bocuse, Alain Chapel, Hubert Keller, and the Troisgros brothers.

Chef Point has some amazing recipes. One that I have been unable (*or unwilling) to try and replicate is so wonderfully complex.  You soft-boil and egg (so the white is firm, and the yolk is still runny) and carefully make a hole in the bottom of the egg and shell.  Drain out the runny egg yolk, and then, carefully, stuff in the same volume (as the egg yolk) of foie gras (softened, with some spices, and a bit of cream added) into the egg.  (Other choices would be a meat mince, or other stuffing.)  Heat and serve.

Someday I’ll attempt this.

Most of Chef Point’s recipes are simple, but elements are  labor intensive, but, fantastic sounding.  It’s all probably over my cooking ability.  I love to read his recipes and his view of life itself. I can get behind the idea of opening a big bottle of champagne, and swigging it all day.

While most of his recipes are “huh” “wow” “mmmm”  the one thing, I have mastered is the fried egg a la Master Point, the King.   IT IS delicious.

“I believe Fernand Point is one of the last true gourmands of the 20th century. His ruminations are extraordinary and thought-provoking—he has been an inspiration for legions of chefs.”  Thomas Keller^[1],

Chef Point (aka: le roi — the king), believed in using the best ingredients possible: regional ingredients, in season, quality-grown. His culinary philosophy was simple: The easiest dishes are often the most difficult. An often-told story is how he would always invite visiting chefs to show off their skill by cooking a simple fried egg. They would, inevitably, fry the egg too fast, in too hot a pan, and he would insult them and show them his way. His way was slow, careful cooking with plenty of butter.

In fact, his favorite saying was “Du beurre! Donnez-moi du beurre! Toujours du beurre!” (Translated: “Butter! Give me butter! Always butter!)

Chef Point’s Fried Egg Recipe

Place a lump of fresh butter in a pan, and let it melt just enough for it to spread and never until it is browned. Open a very fresh egg onto a small plate or saucer, and slide it carefully into the pan. Cook on heat so low that the white barely turns creamy and the yolk becomes hot but remains liquid. In a separate saucepan, melt another lump of fresh butter, remove the egg onto a lightly heated serving plate; salt and pepper it; and then very gently pour the fresh, warm butter over it.

[1] Chef of The French Laundry, Napa, California

The Scream   by Edvard Munch

I thought I’d heard of everything, and then someone mentions Swedish Coffee — an egg used in brewing it.

What?

Something in the far back of my mind registered — wasn’t there some old fancy trick about using egg  to clarify the coffee?   I only vaguely remembered this — tossing a beaten raw egg into the hot-pot of coffee to collect the grounds. The egg adds flavor and mellows the coffee (in the process — wastes an egg).

Somewhere back in my memory I had heard of this. This was a childhood memory, and I only remember it like a dream.

Was this really something?

It is mixed up in my mind like Hobo Coffee. Where you boil some water, toss in the grounds usually in the same pot you boiled water in, let it steep for a few minutes, then pour in some cold water (which drags the coffee grounds to the bottom) and you end up with a perfectly good cup of lukewarm coffee.

And, then out of the haze, I remember my grandmother always put her egg shells aside in a wooden box, and when she made coffee — pretty much Hobo coffee — she just put coffee and egg shells into a pot of boiling water, stirred it, and set it aside to steep. When she poured it out, without straining, it was dark, hot coffee. She said that the egg shells bound the grounds together at the bottom of the pot. (These coffee grounds and egg shells would go into the garden compost pile every morning.)

Of course, the funniest thing about being at Grandma’s house was watching my step-grandfather with a hot cup of coffee.  He would, to my grandmothers chagrin, pour the coffee from the cup to the saucer, then back to the cup, then back to the saucer, and so on, until he deemed it cool enough to drink.  He ate his green peas off his butter knife, and slurped his soup. He was an old Scotsman, with a thick Scottish brogue. He would say all kinds of strange things.Always called me a cheeky bairn. Half the time I never knew what he was saying with all the peely-wally, stookie, stooshie,  aff, aye, and oof.

My grandmother (my mother’s mother) was always in the kitchen. She kept the bacon grease in a crock by the stove. She kept bread crusts in a paper bag, and  egg shells, rinsed, in a small wooden box next to the stove. Egg shells were used to wash out bottles (put place crushed egg shells into a long neck bottle, with some soap and hot water, and shake-shake-shake. The shells would scrub the corners and hard to reach parts and the bottle would come out sparkling.  She used crushed egg shells and a sponge to clean her cast iron pans (she never used soap on the pans, claimed it would “ruin them”). She added finely ground egg shells to soups and stews to give them a calcium boost. And, she would crush them in a paper bag with a rolling-pin, and make a fine line around her vegetable plants, because she insisted “it kept the snails away”.

While on the subject of coffee, my father liked to drink Turkish Coffee (basically finely ground coffee heated up, slowly with a ton of sugar, and some ground cardamom). Really fine restaurants, back then, would usually have it on the menu, as an exotic delicacy. It was good, I was often allowed to have a small sip. A thick swill that you almost had to chew to get down, but delicious. (Now I have a craving for that.)

Coffee making for me was either the electric percolator that my parents used, or the “modern” ways, which I embraced. When I was out on my own, I was in the land of paper filters, and, later, French Press coffee. My friends had very complicated ways to make the “very best coffee, ever”. Coffee bean stores were opening up — where exotic beans from all over the world, in different roasts were trendy (unlike the big cans of pre-ground coffee that my parents would haul home from the grocery store).  Everyone had specific instructions that they would insist on. There were various promoted blends of dark French roast mellowed with a small amount  of Rainforest South American or Hawaiian grown beans (a light roast to balance out and put complexity the blend).

Everyone had a blend. Exotic Ethiopian beans, or Jamaican Blue Mountain Grown were the high-end (thankfully Civit digested coffee hadn’t been discovered, or marketed, yet) and Mexican and Columbian were the low-end.

Coffee beans were always ground fresh right before brewing (beans always kept in the freezer for maximum freshness). The coffee pot had to be preheated. The water boiled, but then cooled for several minutes to 205 degrees (to not injure the coffee oils), and then (for the paper filter drip method) poured in a circular motion over the ground coffee.  For the French Press, the coffee was placed in the glass carafe prior to pouring the hot water over them, then stirred once, and allowed to steep for 2-3 minutes, maximum, then transferred (in the case of a big batch of coffee) to a preheated thermos.

Complicated stuff this coffee-making.

So, my idea of coffee is strong, and full-bodied. I still like my coffee dark and strong, on the occasion that I indulge (more of a tea person these days). Seems, according to cooking websites and blogs, Swedish (aka Norwegian, Scandinavian) coffee is a thing, now. I find references all over the web. As a self-appointed egg expert I just had to try it.

I tried it.

I read a conglomeration of instructions.  I took an egg, and cracked it into a room temperature pan, crushed the egg-shell well, and broke the yoke. Placed a heaping tablespoon of ground coffee (ground to the consistency of what you would use for French Drip). Mixed together it looked disgusting, like mud.  Poured cold water into the pan, and set it on the stove, on medium-high heat, stirring occasionally, until the mess was just below the boiling point (about 200 degrees Fahrenheit). .Removed it from the heat, and let it sit for two minutes.  Then, I strained it into a cup(had to clean the metal strainer several times because it would get clogged up).  The coffee was not coffee-colored. It was more like cafe au lait. The smell was like a very mild coffee. The flavor was very mild — not what I’ve come to expect from coffee concoctions. It was almost insipid, bland.  With added sugar it was more reminiscent of hot cocoa than coffee.  It would be a good drink for someone who didn’t like coffee very much.

Interesting. Different.

I added cream, and the coffee developed a chewy, chalky mouth feel. Not bad, just unexpected. It’s better without dairy.  There is no obvious egg flavor, but it does have more texture, perhaps egg proteins.The only other drawback, aside from using up an egg, was that it was messy to create, and the brown egg, shaggy mess left behind was unsavory.

I think it would be better with some cocoa (will try that next time) to make a super beefy, mocha drink.  It would be better with ground cardamom added. (Which, to me, would make it much more exciting of a drink.)  I might try mixing it with some chai spices (star anise, allspice, ginger, cardamom, fennel seeds, peppercorn nutmeg and cloves) or adding some milk masala powder, because the coffee base would be delicious brightened up with something more.

Overall, interesting.  I can’t rave about it, because it was just a little too flat and mild for my tastes.  But, worth experimenting with.

My grandmother used to bake a multitude of different cookies. I remember that she would make hard-boiled-egg cookies and insist that they were from an old German recipe and would make the best crumbs of any cookie (which she would use for the crust of cheesecake). I was young and never really thought much about this until I came across a recipe from the Second Edition of the Neighborhood Cookbook, published by the Council of Jewish Women, Portland, Oregon (1914).  The recipe was named simply German Cookies.

(Which makes sense to me, as my Grandmother was a stout, stern German woman.)  However, the concept of using hard-boiled eggs in cookies has an unclear origin. I am still looking for the history on it.

German Cookies (Council of German Women Recipe)

Yolks of one dozen hard-boiled eggs, one and one-half pounds butter, one-half pound granulated sugar. Enough flour to make a nice soft dough, two teaspoons of baking powder (mix with flour), one teaspoon lemon extract. Cream the butter and sugar; then add the grated yolks of the eggs; then two raw eggs, and lastly, flour, and flavoring. Roll out quite thin. Cut into different forms, and bake in moderate oven until golden brown.

I’ve run across other hard-boiled-egg cookie recipes in European cookbooks. The Polish have cookie recipes that use hard-boiled-egg yolks. The kruche ciasto Polskie (Polish crumbly dough) is used for cookies and tart shells. There are also numerous Italian cookie recipes that use hard-boiled eggs.

They only sound weird.

Cookbooks from the 1940s had a great variety of hard-boiled-egg cookies. They seem to have evolved into something of a dinosaur in recent editions of standard cookbooks. I’m not sure why. Hard-boiled-egg cookies are delicious.

Hard-Boiled-Egg Spritz Cookies

• 1 cup unsalted butter
• ½ cup sugar
• 3 hard-boiled-egg yolks
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1 teaspoon milk
• 2 cups flour

Cut cold butter into small pieces with knife. Work into sugar until crumb-like. Mash egg yolks with fork, and work into crumbs. Add vanilla and small amount of milk. Mix in flour. This dough will be dry but will hold together when squeezed. It should not be crumbly. (If it does not hold together, add few more drops of milk.) Press or shape as desired. Bake in 400-degree oven 6 to 9 minutes or until set but not overly browned.

Berliner Kranser

• 2 egg yolks, raw
• 2 hard-boiled-egg yolks
• ½ cup sugar
• 1 teaspoon almond extract
• ½ pound unsalted butter
• 1½ cups flour
• 2 egg whites
• decorator’s sugar

Mash hard-boiled-egg yolk with fork. Add raw yolks to hard-boiled yolks. Add sugar and almond extract, and mix together. Blend in butter, and add flour. Dough will be dry and firm. If it does not hold together and is too crumbly, add another raw yolk (although that might require more flour for the right consistency). Refrigerate dough several hours to chill thoroughly. Roll dough into thin ropes about 7 inches long. Twist ends together to form circle with ends overlapping. Brush with egg white, and sprinkle on decorator’s sugar. Bake in 350-degree oven 6 to 8 minutes or until just set but not browned.