It’s here! Summer is here! And so is my I-don’t-give-a-shit-I-just-wanna-have-fun attitude. It feels so refreshing – so free. No more am i dragged down by thirty layers of sweaters, cardigans, and whatever else isn’t dirty or am I waist deep in itchy, too-tight wool socks. Now my shockingly white thighs (let’s get real – they’re almost translucent at this point) are making a comeback in the shortest shorts i can find and I’ve decided that I’m also ditching the bra this summer because who needs one
when the size your boobs couldn’t even pass as a cornhole beanbag. Wait, I take that back. I will only wear the funnest color bras I can find… and that’s a promise. Oh, and how could I forget the most exciting part? My cast is off and I can almost high five my friends, without passing out from pain or screaming in their faces for forgetting that my wrist is totally junked up. My roommates are pretty happy about that though too. I think it’s mostly because I can do the dishes again. But that’s neither here nor there – it’s all about shedding layers, showing some skin, living in the moment, sluttin’ it up, and having the best summer EVER!
But on the other hand, while I flick off the last few months with a blank stare in my eye and a toothy grin on my face, there is one part of winter that I’ll miss and it has to do with cooking… DUHHH. In Brooklyn, it’s just too dang hot to make anything that requires a flame. Without central AC or the money to buy a window unit, my once fully functioning kitchen transitions from being a place of extreme happiness to a beacon of sweat, tears, and nostalgia. For the next few months, I say goodbye to all the roasted vegetables that I once loved and say hello to a bunch of
potato chips boring salads that require no heat whatsoever. So as a sendoff to winter, here is one last grilled cheese that I won’t be able to make for another 6 months.
Crispy bits of pancetta add porky goodness to pan-fried brussels sprouts, and the combination of nutty gruyere, buttery gorgonzola, and creamy egg yolk combine to make one sandwich that will make you enter a wet t-shirt contest. Or whatever.
-1 tbs gorgonzola, crumbled
-1.5 tbs gruyere, shredded
-a few brussels sprouts cooked in pancetta grease
(I’ll explain what I did below)
-2 slices of La Brea Sourdough
-A SUNNY-SIDE UP EGG
-2 pats of salted butter
Lay down the law with some creamy gorgonzola. I love this cheese but it’s definitely not something you want to be gobbling down at the beach or anything. It’s rich, creamy, decadent, and doesn’t belong anywhere near a 2 piece.
Now give a kiss goodbye to brussels sprouts. They sure had one hell of a presence this winter. And I’m not even talking about that one time at the bar a few weeks ago. Thank god that instagram picture gotten taken down.
To make them, fry up 1-2 tablespoons of finely chopped pancetta for a few minutes until they start to crisp up and release their grease. Then chop the stem off your sprouts and slice ’em in half. Set them in your pan and let them sizzle in pork fat until they’re cooked through. Salt and pepper to taste. Then throw ’em on your mother effin grilled cheese sandwich.
Here comes the fun part. Gently place a fried egg on top of it all and get excited because the next step is real fun. Like reallllly fun.
Now this part can be super cathartic and symbolic if you let it. Begin by sprinkling some gruyere on top of the egg and then smash it with the other peice. Watch as the runny yellow richness leaks down your sandwich and think about it whichever way you’d like. Maybe you just imaged smashing some losers face that didn’t call you back last week or maybe you can associate the yolky, drippy streams with the tears of joy that poured out of your eyes once you found that perfect high wasted bathing suit yesterday.
Now butter your bread and place the sandwich in a skillet. Cook over medium heat until you’re sick of waiting. I mean, cook over medium heat until the crust is all golden and brown and the cheese has started to ooze out the sides. Flip, repeat.
Let it sit for a moment so the cheese and all the insides can tighten up and don’t spill out all over the place like that emotional outburst that got all messy last time you were with your parents too long.
So if we’d all take a moment of silence and if you’d join me in a celebratory beauty-pagent-style wave goodbye, we can all say peace out to our good buddy brussels sprouts. And if you’re one of the fortunate peeps that has anything but a steaming hot kitchen, please just keep your thoughts to yourself… I can’t handle it at this point. I’m weeping. Ok, bye. *sniff*