Breakfast rut, Tuesday morning “parfait”

 

I admit it. I am in a breakfast rut. Each day of the week signals a certain breakfast. It’s oatmeal on Mondays and Thursdays. Quaker granola (with raisins) and peanut-butter-topped apple halves anchor Wednesdays. Cereals from Kashi fill Saturdays and Sundays Breakfast is that important. I try to eat a healthful one at least six days a week, filled with fruit and other nutritious stuff like plain yogurt and whole-grain cereal. My dad jokes that I “have the lineup” out when assembling breakfast. He’s referring to the containers of honey, cottage cheese, yogurt and cereal that take counter space. I allow some leeway on Fridays when our family goes out. I’ll eat a waffle or pancakes. Do I have a favorite? Boy, that’s tough. Each has endearing qualities. Oatmeal is creamy (combine the oats with milk instead of water) and warm; granola is addicting, with its pronounced coconut flavor and chewy raisins. Kashi Go Lean Crunch remains crunchy longer than granola. With granola and Go Lean, the milk and cereal slowly get to know one another. The milk takes on the cereal’s sweetness and turns an off-white hue, like an extremely pale beige.

 

Consider this the beginning of a breakfast diary. I’ll begin with a breakfast version of “parfait.” Up next Tuesday: Oatmeal and the wealth of possibilities.

 

Last Tuesday, it was time for a “parfait,” breakfast-style. A traditional parfait, according to The New Food Lover’s Companion, Second Edition (Barron’s Educational Series, Inc.), by Sharon Tyler Herbst, is a dessert. In the United States, it is a layered dessert of ice cream, flavored syrup or fruit and whipped cream. In French, parfait means “perfect,” and is a frozen custard dessert made with egg yolks, sugar, whipped cream and a flavoring, such as fruit puree. I came across the tiramisu affogato, a parfait with espresso and ladyfingers in Gourmet magazine’s August 2008 issue.Well, this morning version is a layered concoction of yogurt, fruit and Go Lean Crunch.

Amidst a self-induced worrisome morning, I took long stretches between bites while reading a devotional and the Bible and talking to God.

Let’s talk about the cereal.

“Crunch” is an appropriate descriptor. It stays crunchy, even after wading in milk for 20 minutes, or in this case, touching yogurt. Golden-brown, slightly-sweet clusters of seven whole grains, including oats and barley, look like rough-edged asteroids. But don’t let the craggy exterior fool you. There is enough sweetness (from honey and evaporated cane juice crystals) to give these filling clusters appeal. They also bring 9 grams of protein and 8 grams of fiber.

 

So here’s the layering method, from the bottom up: Fresh fruit of your choice (blueberries, strawberries, plums, cut into half-inch pieces); plain yogurt (enough to cover the fruit like a blanket of snow); thin-sliced banana rounds; one-and-a-half spoonfuls of honey (more or less to taste), drizzled evenly atop the bananas; enough cereal to cover the bananas. The pile of clusters looks like a rock quarry. It’s past the brim of the bowl. I bring the bowl toward my nose. I notice a sweet, slightly spiced hint, like cinnamon. Honey still coats the spoon as I take that first bite. “Crunch, crunch, crunch.” Over time, the gooey sweet honey melds with the creamy yogurt. A bite of crisp plum and soft banana with a cluster provides a textural delight. As time walks, the yogurt slightly softens the “crunch” of the clusters. It takes a while to reach the last bite. I read, think and eat. Anxiety and worry fade into the air. The arrows subside. The day marches on. I march on with it. It’s a Tuesday morning tradition. A tradition worth lingering over.

Look to ragu for hearty comfort

Ragu is a prime candidate to represent the slow-food movement. The thick, meat sauce that is a staple of northern Italy’s Bologna region, is subtle, like a whisper. It’s easygoing, like a late afternoon in July or August. There’s no dramatic “crackle” in the pot or flames shooting toward the ceiling with ragu. Ragu just cooks. It slow cooks. I’ve made ragu twice from two different recipes. There are similarities and differences with each recipe, but the resulting flavors of each were alike: Meaty and hearty. Allow the aromas of onions, garlic, wine and meat, to penetrate every nook and cranny and awaken appetites. The word “ragu,” incidentally, is derived from the French verb ragouter, which means to “stimulate” the appetite.” Sharon Tyler Herbst provided this information in her book, The New Food Lover’s Companion, Second Edition, (Barron’s Educational Series, Inc., 1995).

The latest installment of ragu at our house came from a recipe printed in the Los Angeles Times. The technique is adapted from the classic “La Cucina Napoletana” by Jeanne Carola Francesconi. In this recipe, cubes of boneless pork “country ribs” simmer in red wine, onions, garlic and pancetta (Italian cured, unsmoked bacon) and eventually combine with tomato paste, chopped tomatoes and chunks of Italian sausage. The ingredients coalesce into a thick, deep reddish brown sauce which can be spooned over pasta or polenta.

The previous recipe appeared in Saveur magazine and came from Anna Nanni, a cook at Trattoria Amerigo dal 1934, outside Bologna, Italy, in the city of Savigno. Of ragu, she says in the magazine that “from 10 women, you’ll get 10 different recipes.” Francesconi’s and Nanni’s recipes are no exception. They each contain meat (Nanni’s uses a combination of ground beef and pork), pancetta, red wine, tomato paste, tomatoes in some form (Francesconi’s calls for fresh), onions and olive oil. Nanni’s differed from Francesconi’s with celery, carrots and butter. Francesconi’s recipe includes garlic. Techniques also differ. Nanni’s recipe calls for higher heat to sauté onions, celery and carrots to a light brown and browning the meats before reducing the heat to low and simmering for three hours.

In Francesconi’s recipe, the pork, onions, garlic and pancetta start off over low heat

 

and stay that way

 

for a majority of the cook time. The only “quick” browning happens when tomato paste is added and the mixture dries before your eyes. See below.

 

 Thus, liquid is needed. In this case, water goes in. Just watch it. Peek inside every five to 10 minutes and make sure the sauce isn’t turning black on the bottom of the pot, which happened in my case. Stir often with a wooden, flat-ended spoon, and place the pot on a small burner. I added nearly three-quarters cup of water in stages. What’s left is a thick, chunky sauce full of pork goodness that anchors a satisfying meal.

 

In both recipes, the ingredients unite into a hearty harmony anchored by meat. Nanni’s tastes more smoky from greater amounts of pancetta. But I’m enough of a fan of ragu that I don’t mind trying different recipes. Add some garlic bread, Caesar salad and a glass of Chianti and enjoy a great meal. Bon Appetit. Be sure to take time and enjoy this food. It took an easy-going, slow, relaxed road to arrive on the plate.

 L.A. Times food writer Russ Parsons’ article “In all its splendor” has recipes for the pork rib ragu, cider-brined pork chops and five-spice roast pork belly.