Scorched Eggs (26 page)
Authors: Laura Childs
Sour Cream Coffee Cake
1
/
2
cup butter, softened
1 cup sugar
2 eggs
1 cup sour cream
1 tsp. vanilla extract
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp. baking powder
1
/
2
tsp. baking soda
1
/
4
tsp. salt
TOPPING:
1
/
4
cup sugar
1
/
3
cup brown sugar
1 tsp. ground cinnamon
1
/
2
cup chopped pecans
Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Cream together butter and sugar. Beat in eggs, sour cream, and vanilla. Combine flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Add to creamed mixture and beat until combined. Pour half the mixture into a greased 9" Ã 13" baking pan. In a small bowl, combine all topping ingredients. Sprinkle topping on top of batter. Add remaining batter and bake for 40 minutes. Cool on wire rack. Makes 12 servings.
Eggs in a Frame
Whole red pepper, sliced into “rings”
Cooking oil
Eggs
Parmesan cheese, grated
Slice a whole red pepper horizontally into “rings” and place 3 or 4 in your frying pan. Sizzle in hot oil for a few minutes, then flip rings over. Now crack an egg into each ring and sprinkle on a pinch of grated Parmesan cheese. Fry as you would any sunny-side egg.
Cheese Popovers
4 eggs
1 cup all-purpose flour
1
/
2
tsp. salt
1 cup milk
1 tbsp. melted butter
1 cup cheddar cheese, grated
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Break eggs into small bowl and beat with a fork. Place eggs in food processor and add in flour, salt, milk, and butter. Process for about 20 seconds. Stir in cheese. Pour into well-greased popover pan. Bake for approximately 45 minutesâbut don't open your oven until they're done or they might collapse! Makes 4 to 6 popovers.
Chicken Paprikash
1 medium onion, sliced
2 tbsp. paprika
4 tbsp. butter
1 whole chicken, cut into pieces
1
1
/
2
cups chicken broth
4 tbsp. sour cream
1 tomato, chopped
In a fry pan, brown sliced onion and paprika in butter, then remove onions. Add chicken to pan and brown, adding a little more butter if needed. Add chicken broth and browned onions. Cover and simmer for 1 hour. After chicken is cooked, add in sour cream and sprinkle on chopped tomato. Serve with noodles, rice, or spaetzles. Serves 4.
Strawberry and Ritz Cracker Pie
3 egg whites
1 cup sugar
20 Ritz crackers, crushed
1
/
2
cup walnuts, crushed
1 tsp. baking powder
1 (10-oz.) pkg. frozen strawberries
1
/
2
pint heavy cream, whipped
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Beat egg whites, gradually adding sugar until stiff. Fold in crushed Ritz crackers, walnuts, and baking powder. Gently press mixture into greased 9" pie plate. Bake for 20 minutes. While pie shell is baking, drain frozen strawberries and fold into whipped cream. Pour into pie shell when it's slightly cooled and chill in refrigerator for 2 hours.
Baked Omelet Roll
6 eggs
1 cup milk
1
/
2
cup all-purpose flour
1
/
2
tsp. salt
1
/
4
tsp. ground black pepper
1 cup shredded cheddar cheese
Preheat oven to 450 degrees. In blender, combine eggs, milk, flour, salt, and pepper until smooth. Pour egg mixture into a lightly greased 9" Ã 13" baking pan. Bake for approximately 20 minutes until set. Remove omelet from oven and sprinkle on cheese. Carefully loosen all edges of omelet from pan, then gently roll up the omelet. Cut into 6 equal-sized pieces and garnish with sour cream, salsa, or fresh fruit. Serves 6.
Sunflower Cheese Spread
4 oz. cream cheese, room temperature
4 oz. goat cheese (or other soft cheese)
1 tbsp. cream
1
/
2
tsp. Worcestershire sauce
1
/
4
tsp. paprika
2
/
3
cup roasted, salted sunflower kernels
Combine cheeses, cream, Worcestershire sauce, and paprika. Gently blend in sunflower kernels. If consistency is too thick, mix in a little more cream. Spread on bread for tea sandwiches, or serve as a dip with crackers or bread sticks.
Sweet and Spicy Glazed Sausages
1 (12-oz.) pkg. breakfast sausage links
1
/
4
cup orange marmalade (or apricot preserves)
2 tbsp. sweet and spicy mustard
Sauté sausages in pan until lightly browned and fully cooked. Remove sausages from pan and drain. Wipe pan to remove cooking fat. Add marmalade and mustard to pan and blend over medium heat. Return sausages to pan and stir gently to glaze.
Petra's Baking Powder Biscuits
2
1
/
4
cups self-rising flour
3
/
4
cup butter
1 cup milk
1 tsp. baking powder
Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Mix all ingredients together until dough comes together. Place on floured surface and gently pat out into a circle. Now fold in half and cut out your biscuits using a biscuit cutter. Bake on greased pan for 20 to 25 minutes. Yields 8 to 12.
Chilled Blueberry Soup
1 cup sour cream
2 (10-oz.) pkg. frozen blueberries, slightly thawed
4 tbsp. granulated sugar
2 tbsp. brown sugar (optional)
Put sour cream, blueberries, and sugar in food processor and pulse for 30 seconds or so. Then check for consistency and taste. If you'd like soup thinner, add
1
/
4
cup of cream. If you'd like it sweeter, add 2 tbsp. brown sugar. Pulse again and serve chilled. Makes 4 servings.
Old-fashioned Soda Bread
3 cups flour, sifted
2
/
3
cup sugar
1 tbsp. baking powder
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. salt
1
1
/
2
cups currants or dark raisins
2 eggs, beaten
2 cups buttermilk
2 tbsp. melted butter
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In large bowl, mix together flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Stir in currants or raisins. In separate bowl, combine eggs, buttermilk, and melted butter. Add liquid mixture to dry mixture and mix just until moistened. Place batter in 5
1
/
4
" Ã 9
1
/
2
" loaf pan and bake for approximately 60 minutes. Remove bread from pan immediately and let cool before slicing.
Scorched Eggs
1 lb. sweet Italian-style ground sausage
Salt and pepper
8 hard-boiled eggs
1
/
2
cup bread crumbs
1 egg, beaten
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Season sausage with salt and pepper and divide into 8 portions. Pat out each portion of sausage to about a
1
â
8
"-thick patty. Wrap sausage patty around each hard-boiled egg, pressing edges together to seal. Roll sausage-covered eggs in bread crumbs and then dip in beaten egg. Place on greased baking sheet and bake for 20 minutes or until lightly browned. Makes 8 servings.
BOOKS AND MAGAZINES
The Good Egg
âAuthor Marie Simmons offers two hundred fresh approaches to preparing eggsâeverything from breakfast to dessert.
The Fresh Egg Cookbook
âJennifer Trainer Thompson explores recipes for using eggs sourced from farmers' markets, local farms, and your own backyard.
Home-Made Vintageâ
Christina Strutt provides a guide to giving your home a vintage air and a country cottage appeal.
Modern Country
âNancy Ingram and Jennifer Jordan show how to add a clean, modernist edge to classic country décor.
Country Home
âMagazine with country-inspired home design, collecting, craft projects, and recipes. (countryhome.com)
Country Living
âMagazine devoted to home and decorating, food and entertaining, antiques and collectibles. (countryliving.com)
Country Sampler
âMagazine with country decorating and lifestyle articles. (countrysampler.com)
Living the Country Life
âHomes, gardening, and country life. (livingthecountrylife.com)
Flea Market Style
âMagazine dedicated to flea market shopping and repurposing unique finds. (fleamarketstylemag.blogspot.com)
MaryJanesFarm
âCharming magazine about crafts, décor, and organic living. (maryjanesfarm.org)
WEBSITES AND INTERESTING BLOGS
Cottagehomedecorating.comâHow to turn secondhand and rescued furniture and objects into charming, comfortable cottage style.
Mypetchicken.comâThe how-tos of raising chickens in your own backyard.
Joyofbaking.com/eggs.htmlâAll about cooking and baking with eggs.
Incredibleegg.orgâAmerican Egg Board's site with egg facts, fun, and lots of recipes.
Fresh-eggs-daily.comâBlog about eggs, chickens, and tasty recipes.
Beadandbreakfast.comâYour getaway guide to more than 11,000 country inns and bed-and-breakfasts.
Cookingwithideas.typepad.comâRecipes and book reviews for the bibliochef.
Jennybakes.comâFabulous recipes from a real make-it-from-scratch baker.
Baking.about.comâCarroll Pellegrinelli writes a wonderful baking blog complete with recipes and photo instructions.
Garden-of-books.comâTerrific book reviews by an entertainment journalist.
Lattesandlife.comâWitty musings on life.
Thepioneerwoman.comâReal ranch cooking. What more could you ask for!
Lovintheoven.comâBaked goods, easy meals, and lots of great step-by-step photos.
RTbookreviews.comâWonderful romance and mystery book review site.
Turn the page for a preview of Laura Childs's next Tea Shop Mystery . . .
Ming Tea Murder
Coming soon in hardcover from Berkley Prime Crime!
D
RUMS
banging, sweet notes of a Chinese violin trembling in the air, the enormous red and gold dragon shook its great head and danced its way through the rotunda of the Gibbes Museum in Charleston, South Carolina. It was the opening night celebration for the reconstruction of a genuine eighteenth-century Chinese teahouse, and the crème de la crème of society had turned out in full force for this most auspicious occasion.
And even though black-tie events weren't exactly topmost in Theodosia Browning's comfort zone, there had been no easy way to refuse this particular invitation, especially when your handsome, hunky boyfriend was the museum's PR director. So here she was, applauding the music, mesmerized by the spectacle of the enormous dragon's gaping jaws snapping and slapping above the heads of the excited crowd.
Yes, the event was most impressive, Theodosia decided. Glowing red Chinese lanterns, stands of bamboo, dozens of elegant orchids, and miniature Penjing trees had transformed the cold, marble rotunda into an elegant Asian garden. And then there was the food. Serving tables were laden with tempting bites such as shrimp dumplings, honey-glazed pork buns, chicken satays, and miniature crispy duck rolls. Delicious!
Of course, the real treasure was the teahouse itself, purchased and deconstructed in Shanghai, then rebuilt board-by-board inside the museum. The blue-tiled, exotically peaked roof, gleaming cypress walls, and intricately carved sandalwood screens seemed tailor-made for an emperor and his courtesans.
“I'm anxious to take a look inside,” Theodosia told Max, who was gazing about proudly if not a little distractedly.
“We pulled it off,” said Max. “I can't believe we actually pulled it off.” He sounded surprised that his PR efforts had yielded such a turnout.
“Of course you did,” Theodosia told him. “Because nobody would pass up an opportunity to enjoy a fancy celebration like this.”
Except . . . maybe me?
Theodosia had a smile that could light up a tearoomâand often did, since she was the proprietor of the Indigo Tea Shop on nearby Church Street. But tonight she'd been smiling so exuberantly that her face felt like it was about ready to crack. She'd flitted about on Max's arm, chatting and rubbing shoulders with Charleston's old guard, most of them big-buck donors who were thrilled that their money had helped make it possible to import this masterpiece of a teahouse.
But Theodosia was also counting the seconds to midnight.
Because when the clock struck the proverbial witching hour, she planned to cut and run like Cinderella. She'd kick off her pinchy black satin heels, climb into her pumpkin coach, which, in this case, was her venerable six-year-old Jeep, and head home to her cozy little cottage where her dog, Earl Grey, awaited her.
Shaking her head, forcing another smile, because Max was saying something to her again, she leaned toward him and said, “Excuse me?”
“I need to schmooze a couple more board members,” said Max. “You'll be okay?”
“I'll be perfect,” said Theodosia.
“Go check out the photo booth,” Max urged. “While I huddle with Edgar Webster, one of our illustrious donors.” He grinned. “Maybe take a selfie.” As a fun perk for the guests, Max had convinced the museum director to let him bring in a photo booth. And just as he'd predicted, there'd been a constant parade of guests in and out of the booth all night long. Everyone was seemingly thrilled with the notion of immortalizing themselves in photos, even if they were the small black-and-white variety.
“I'll do that,” Theodosia told him. “That'll be fun.” As she turned to push her way through the crowd, she caught sight of herself in a fragment of mirror. And as always, the image gave her pause.
Is that really me with that mass of auburn hair framing my face and blue eyes looking so expectant? Hmm, I don't look half bad for being in my mid-thirties.
She'd swooped a hint of blusher on the apples of her cheeks, smudged on the bare minimum of mascara. But with her confident bearing, winning smile, and fair Southern belle skin, she looked almost like a noblewoman who might have been portrayed in some delectable English painting. Perhaps something James Constable might have done.
“You're looking very lovely tonight,” said a voice behind her.
Theodosia whirled about to find Drayton, her dear friend and tea master, smiling at her.
“If not a bit mischievous,” continued Drayton.
Theodosia smiled and gave an offhand wave. “Ah, I think I might be a tad underdressed.” She'd worn a simple black cocktail dress, an armful of colorful bead bracelets, and heels, while most of the other women were glitzed and glammed in the latest runway creations from Dior and Oscar de la Renta.
“Nonsense,” said Drayton. “An LBD is always perfectly appropriate.” Drayton was sixtyish, tall, and debonair. Tonight his gray hair was slicked back straight and he wore a slim-cut tuxedo with his trademark bow tie. He was the buttoned-up old guard to Theodosia's more playful boho cool.
“Did you get a gander at all the jewels these women are wearing?” Theodosia asked him. “I mean, a cat burglar would have a field day here.”
Drayton's bushy brows rose in twin arcs. “Please don't interject a criminal element into the occasion. Even if it is only imaginary.”
“Okay, then I'll just compliment you on all your lovely Penjing, because they certainly help add to the Asian atmosphere.” Penjing were basically Chinese bonsai, miniature trees that had been cut, trimmed, and wired so they could exist in small, moss-encrusted ceramic pots. Drayton, a master at creating windblown-styled trees and miniature forests, had lent the museum a dozen of his trees. Most had spectacularly twisted trunks and leaves that were smaller than a lady's pinky nail.
“They do look nice, don't they? Particularly my Chinese elm.” Drayton prided himself on his composure and modesty, but he also appreciated a compliment now and then.
“You've been inside the teahouse?” said Theodosia. They both had to take a step back since the crowd was pressing so hard around them.
“It's a marvel,” exclaimed Drayton. “I took the liberty of exploring while all that Chinese dragon business was going on.” He paused and smiled. “You should run over and take a quick peek, too. You'll love it.”
“I'm going to,” said Theodosia. “But first I promised Max I'd check out his photo booth.” She looked around, saw that Max was backed up against a wall, talking to a rather red-faced man, a board member by the name of Edgar Webster. Neither of them looked happy.
“
Photo
booth?” spat out Drayton. Clearly he wasn't a fan. “What is this fixation everyone has today with memorializing themselves? And then posting every single silly photograph on . . .” Drayton made a face. “On the
Internet
?”
“Come on,” Theodosia cajoled. “It's not as bad as all that.”
“I'm just not sure a photo booth is apropos for an event such as this.”
“Still, it's fun. And everyone seems to love it.”
“You see,” said Drayton, “that's why I'm not everyone.” Drayton was a self-proclaimed Luddite who mistrusted smartphones, DVDs, and CDs. In fact, he was an old-fashioned, vinyl record kind of guy.
“But you're perfect just the way you are,” Theodosia assured him. She glanced around again, but didn't see Max.
“Oh my,” said Drayton. As he gazed out into the crowd his placid expression suddenly changed to one of horror.
“What?” Then Theodosia caught sight of the small, blond woman speed-balling toward them on clacking kitten heels.
“I'm going to let
you
handle this encounter,” said Drayton as he quickly slipped away.
“You look like you're having a
marvelous
time,” cooed Charlotte Webster. She slalomed to a stop in front of Theodosia and grinned like a Cheshire cat, practically upending her glass of champagne in the process. Charlotte was the bubbly socialite who presided over the Broad Street Garden Club, was a sometime customer at Theodosia's Indigo Tea Shop, and was married to Edgar Webster.
“It's a thrilling night,” Theodosia told Charlotte, mustering yet another smile. Since Charlotte's husband, a prominent businessman and philanthropist, had put up the largest chunk of money to import the teahouse, she pretty much had to make nice with his wife.
“I was just chatting with Percy Capers,” said Charlotte. She fluttered a pudgy hand and adjusted her necklace, a string of sparkling diamonds with a large yellow diamond as the center stone. “You know, the museum's curator of Asian art?”
Theodosia nodded. She'd met Capers a couple of times.
“Anyway, Mr. Capers was regaling me with horror stories about importing this lovely teahouse. Shipping it across the Pacific, shepherding it through customs, misplacing some of the actual parts. Why, do you know there are no
nails
whatsoever in the construction? That the entire thing is held together with dozens of wooden pegs?”
“I've heard that.”
“Isn't that the craziest thing ever?” said Charlotte. “Wooden pegs?”
“I guess that's how they built them two hundred years ago,” said Theodosia.
“Two hundred years? That's how old that thing is?” said Charlotte. She took a quick glug of champagne. “Well, I certainly hope we got our money's worth then.” She giggled loudly, patted Theodosia on the arm, and toddled off.
Charlotte was a real character, Theodosia thought to herself. And then, because she really didn't want to be unkind, decided that the Websters, as civic-minded underwriters of the teahouse, really had done a wonderful thing.
As Theodosia slipped past one of the food tables, she accepted a miniature egg roll from a black-uniformed waiter. Then, when another waiter held out a tray filled with champagne glasses, she took a glass. As she sipped and surveyed the crowd, she was struck again by how fancy and formal everyone looked. Of course, many of the guests, board members as well as donors, were friends and neighbors who lived in the nearby historic district. There was one of the Ravenels conspiring with a Clayton and a Tisdale. And Mr. Pinckney was talking to a rather large man with a pronounced Texas bray.
The pounding of drums suddenly started up again, loud and hard, and Theodosia turned to see what was going on now. Oops, it was dragon time again. The Chinese dragon was humping its way through the crowd once more, tossing its head from side to side, its dragon beard fluttering with every move.
Theodosia had witnessed a dragon parade in San Francisco's Chinatown once, when she'd been roaming up and down Grant Street, popping into tea shops, looking for unusual varieties and blends. But seeing this guy up close and personal was a lot more fun. And from the enthusiasm generated by the crowd, they obviously thought so, too.
Edging her way through a clutch of suitably enthralled guests, Theodosia headed for the photo booth. Maybe she could slip in and take a quick photo right now. She wasn't all that hot to pose, but it would make Max happy. Give him a small souvenir of tonight's museum triumph.
Dodging around an enormous celadon pot filled with leafy bamboo plants, Theodosia darted past a red Chinese lantern supported by a heavy wooden post. Over here, in an alcove off the rotunda where the photo booth was located, it was a little darker, a little quieter.
Perfect.
Theodosia rounded a stone lion-dog statue, heading for the photo booth. The drums were pounding furiously now, the erhu, or Chinese violin, pouring out urgent notes. Finishing the last sip of champagne, she set her glass down on a small rosewood table and turned toward the photo booth.
Was it still occupied? she wondered. Or could she dart in for a quick photo?
“Hello?” Theodosia called out, giving a couple of sharp knocks on the shiny, bright yellow exterior. She didn't want to go crashing in and photo bomb someone. That would be just plain rude.
“Is someone in there?” she called again.
When there was no reply, Theodosia took a step forward. And just before her hand parted the flimsy black curtain, the toe of her strappy black stilletto slid into a patch of something sticky.
Oh no
, she groaned. All she needed was to ruin her best pair of shoes because some exuberant guest had spilled a glop of sweet-and-sour sauce.
Theodosia glanced down, expecting to see sauce, fragments of an exploded pork bun, or a puddle of champagne. After all, this art opening had turned into a fairly raucous party.
Only what she saw instead was a small, dark puddle.
A spilled drink?
No, Theodosia decided. Champagne or tea would be much more translucent.
As she pulled her foot back and stared at the floor again, taking a longer, harder look, her heart began to flutter. Then it began to dance a little jitterbug. Because whatever was on the floor was decidedly dark and sticky.
No, it couldn't be. Could it?
Slowly, tentatively, her heart in her throat, Theodosia reached forward and parted the curtains. And saw . . . nothing.
It was pitch-black inside the photo booth. Lights out.
Somehow that didn't feel right to her. What was going on?
She pushed the curtains a little farther apart.
And that's when she saw him. A large man, sprawled on a narrow wooden bench, bent all the way forward so his forehead pressed tightly against the front panel of the booth. His eyes were closed and he looked like he was passed out cold.
“Excuse me,” said Theodosia. “Sir?” Her mouth felt dry, her breathing was fast and thready. “Are you okay, sir?” She paused. “Do you need help?”
No answer.
Theodosia glanced backward, looking for a museum guard, one of the museum staff, anyone who might be able to lend a hand.
But everyone had their backs to her. They were still cheering and clapping like mad as the musicians played wildly and the Chinese dragon continued his energetic prance.
