Last night I sat down to a very late, but scrumdiddlyumptious dinner of scrambled eggs on toast after a more challenging day with Baby G. I’m not being facetious … this meal took all of 5 minutes to make, was yum and hit the spot when I hadn’t been sure if I’d be eating at all. As I shovelled down the silken, buttery scrambled eggs and reflected on a day of major crying episodes (baby, not me, although there were moments), trying to make sense of it … the earlier sunrises and sunsets, the cold he seemed to have (even though his old man-style loud coughs and sneezes had been happening since day 1 … but now there was mucus; although in between sounding like he was being tortured he was such a happy bub … argh) , this 4/5/6-month sleep regression business I kept reading about, the change of weather, all of the above, none of the above?!!! I gave up once I decided that tomorrow would be another, brand new day (‘with no mistakes in it’, as the wise Marilla Cuthbert said) with the chance of fewer tears, and let my mind drift to a happy, straightforward thing: eggs.
The very first ‘meal’ I ever made was scrambled eggs. I remember making them over and over again for my younger sister and brother, testing out all the weird and wonderful ways with eggs on these two, poor souls. They didn’t have much of a choice. I was baby-sitting and they had to eat what I gave them, or starve. I discovered that simple was not always easy, and that it was definitely ‘all in the technique’ after a particularly oily, sloppy batch with overripe tomatoes running through the oozy mess. My mum’s shabby copy of the classic Margaret Fulton ‘red cookbook’ came to the rescue a couple of times in these heady, experimental days.
More recently I was ordered to have a few hours of baking time, my kind of ‘me time’, and cooked up a couple of frittatas for a picnic the next day. I can safely say my egg skills have come a long way, although there are many egg wonders I am yet to discover. If you have the patience and luxury of time, as I did on this blessed day, cook the red onions for as long as you can. It will make this frittata even more delicious. And now I must leave you to check on the sleeping, sleep-regressed beauty. More soon, lovely readers!
I large sweet potato, peeled and cut into small chunks
3 large red onions
25 g butter
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil plus extra for roasting/frying
1 cup self-raising flour
150 g block goat’s cheese (I used an ashed goats for this frittata)
1/2 cup chopped dill or mint
handful thyme sprigs
sea salt and black pepper
Serves 8-16, depending on the serving size
Preheat your oven to 180°C. Place the potatoes onto a baking tray and drizzle with about 2 tablespoons of oil, not too much so as not to make them soggy. Season well. Toss the potatoes around in the tray so that they are all well coated and then place the tray in the oven. Allow these to cook for about 30 minutes, or until tender and crispy.
While the potatoes are baking, grease a deep rectangular or square (about 22 cm) dish and line with greased baking paper. Cut the onions in half through the middle, and then cut each segment into thin slices. Heat a medium frying pan and add about 2 tablespoons of oil, as well as the butter. Add the onions and cook on a low heat for at least 20 minutes. Continue to stir so as not to burn the onions and cook until the onions become ‘jammy’, darken in colour and are very sweet to taste. Set aside.
Break the eggs in a large bowl and whisk. Add the oil, half of the thyme leaves, the herbs and flour, and season well. Mix until well combined. Crumble in half of the goat’s cheese and lightly fold through. Gently stir through the cooled sweet potatoes, and then pour the batter into the prepared dish. Top with the red onions and remaining goat’s cheese, scattering them across the top of the batter as evenly as possible, as well as the remaining thyme leaves, and then bake for about 25-30 minutes, or until the top of the frittata is golden and a tester comes out clean.