The night before the end of Fashion Week, I capped of a full day of covering events and shows with a late meal at Harry Cipriani (where, in fact, I spotted Naomi Campbell near the bar). When I finally made it home, E was already in bed. But I didn’t head to the bedroom to join him right away. I went to the kitchen.
No, I didn’t make a sandwich. There were too many dirty dishes in the sink, a major pet peeve of mine. When I was young, my mother was always nagging my father and I about leaving soiled plates around. “Just wash them! I can’t go to sleep with dishes in the sink! I feel like I’m sleeping in a dirty house with dirty dishes laid out,” she would say.
When I saw the pile of dishes and pots in our sink, I flipped. That scenario of a harried wife who came home after a hard day at the office only to have to vacuum and clean and make dinner and take care of the kids and mow the lawn while the husband sat on the couch flashed in my mind. Thus I turned on every light in the house and stomped around the kitchen–still wearing my heels and cocktail dress–slinging pots and pans into soapy dishwater and stacking them in cupboards so loudly that E had to grumpily get out of bed and help. When we were finished, E slinked back to bed without saying goodnight. Boy, do I know how to kill the mood.
The next morning, E was hesitant to speak with me. “Are you still on the warpath?” he asked. I raised an eyebrow.
“I see you for all of ten minutes during Fashion Week, and then you choose to come in at midnight and cause a stink over dishes? No, ‘hey baby, how was your day?’ I would have gotten to the dishes in the morning!”
Fine, maybe I overreacted. No I didn’t! I have standards! I want my house clean! I did the right thing!
Regardless, I owed him a sandwich. Breakfast was our first shot at eating together in days, so I decided on a hearty one–a sausage, egg and cheese breakfast sandwich. It cures headaches and hangovers, so I was hoping the breakfast sandwich would mend E’s hurt feelings as well. I still felt guilty after our tiff, so I made the eggs just like E likes them–runny like risotto, with a bit of creme fraiche.
“I’m sorry,” I told him as I served up breakfast. He devoured every bite, kissed me on the cheek, and washed his dish before leaving for work.
2 English muffins
2 turkey sausage patties
1 teaspoon pepper
1 teaspoon chives, chopped
4 oz cheddar cheese
1 heaping teaspoon creme fraiche
1 teaspoon srirachia sauce
For the eggs–break four into bowl and stir in pepper. Then pour eggs into nonstick pan on low heat and begin to scramble, mixing constantly with a wooden spoon. Take off after 30 seconds, and continue stirring for 30 seconds. Then add the creme fraiche, and put the skillet back on the pan, stirring constantly. Remove after 30 seconds, and stir. By now, you should have the consistency of egg porridge or egg risotto. If this works for you, throw in chives and call it done. If not, add chives, but put pan back on heat and stir until eggs reach desired consistency (we’re talking the difference between 20 to 30 seconds back on the heat, so be careful).
Once done, cook sausage patties until warm (I was lazy and used store bought frozen sausage patties. About 70 seconds in the microwave and they were set). Toast English muffins and slice cheese into thin sandwich slices. When English muffins are ready, put slices of chedar cheese on base of muffin, then add sausage, then spoon eggs on top. Add srirachia sauce on the top side of bread for kick. Place top on sandwich and serve. Makes 2 sandwiches.
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