Rise & Dine
Ahh, breakfast. The smell of sizzling bacon alone brings back the Saturday mornings of childhood. And while the meal was ignored for too long by serious restaurants, that’s no longer true. The location and the chef may have changed—hang up the apron, Dad—but breakfast out is an amazing start to the day. Here, our favorite 64 spots for morning eats.
Cracking the Shell
How I learned to scramble eggs.
Hand me a recipe and chances are I’ll master it on the first try. I can bake multitiered cakes and homemade breads, stir together a gorgeous roux, and turn out a mean duck breast—all without a problem. But I cannot make eggs. Scrambled, fried, basted, folded into an omelet…every rendition is disastrous: hard, sulfuric, inedible. They are so bad that my three-year-old daughter steadfastly refuses to eat any egg cooked by me. Instead, my husband mans our egg pan and fills our plates with buttery, perfect goods every blessed time.
My eggy failure weighing on me, I cajoled a lesson from Snooze’s Scott Bermingham and Spencer Lomax. First, we talked basics: Use a nonstick pan, add a dash of half-and-half for scrambled (not skim milk, which has a high water content), and most important, use high-quality eggs. Aside from switching from milk, I was doing everything right. Except I wasn’t.
Over the hot stovetop, I watched as Bermingham melted butter in a pan and began to scramble a mixture of three eggs and half-and-half. I immediately identified my cardinal sin: While Bermingham constantly jostled the pan and stirred its contents with a spatula, I let my eggs sit for a few seconds. Another mistake: Where I would cook the mixture until it was cooked all the way through, Bermingham pulls his off the stovetop just before it’s done. The idea is that eggs continue to cook slightly, even after they’ve hit the plate. A sprinkle of kosher salt and I tasted a forkful of Bermingham’s light prototype. Heavenly.
Then came the moment of truth: I poured a blend of eggs and half-and-half over bubbling butter and immediately began scrambling. It felt wrong, not letting the eggs sit in peace for a brief moment, but I could tell from the encouraging nods that things were going well. A minute or so later, I plated a pile of shiny scrambled eggs that looked and tasted just like the pros. I tried again and again with the same results. Three dozen eggs later and I was christened an egg cook. Now, even my daughter agrees. —AMF