I once heard the journalist, Pete Paphides, quite rightly point out (I think in an interview with the Prefab Sprout singer Paddy McAloon, which seems odd, but it’s how I remember it) that, as a parent, it’s striking, nay, shocking how many eggs you make your way through in a week. For all those breakfasts and lunches where you don’t really have anything planned and need to get something on the table in ten minutes, eggs are so, so often the obvious thing, but my GOD that makes you race through them. Scrambled for breakfast, a couple of omelettes, the odd fried one atop something and maybe some meatballs or a cake or a spaghetti carbonara and there you are, a family who has made their way through two dozen eggs in a week. They are literally never not on our shopping list.
Today’s lunch was exactly one of those moments mentioned above. I had some cold cooked potatoes in the fridge and little else, and needed to get something on the table for myself an a two year old fairly quickly,
A frittata it was.
I took a bowl of cooked potatoes, diced them to half inch cubes, and tossed them with a smattering of whole fennel seeds before throwing them into a pan of bubbling butter (to the tune of 50g. Yes, fifty) to colour a little. As they did, I gently beat together six eggs, which I seasoned generously and mixed with a large handful of grated parmesan. I sloshed this mixture into the potato pan, swirled it around a little to make sure the potatoes were evenly dispersed, turned down the heat to very low, and then joined my daughter in watching a few episodes of Peppa Pig which, for those who care, is rather good, and surprisingly heavy on laughs, and left the frittata well alone for fifteen minutes.
After this short time, I put the whole pan under a pre-heated grill for 60 seconds to firm up the top, without browning, and slid the whole thing out onto a board ready for cutting.
We devoured a couple of slices each, alongside a raw carrot and cabbage salad, lightly dressed with olive oil and white wine vinegar. The fennel seeds were a touch of magic, and imparted a beautiful but subtle flavour to the whole thing.
Really, it’s not rocket science, but sometimes, a box of eggs can save your lunchtime.
Buy your own copy of Nigel Slater’s ‘Real Fast Food’ HERE.