hearty eggs in marinara.

hearty eggs in marinara.

I’m sure I’ll start whining about the cold soon, but for the moment, I’m loving how the days have been bright and breezy and the nights have cooled enough for jeans and a cardy. Cooler temps also mean it’s finally appropriate for me to post one of my favorite comfort food recipes: hearty eggs in marinara. Put an emphasis on hearty, folks, because this is not a breakfast dish but rather a great excuse for eggs in the evening.

As an equal opportunity omnivore, I am generally open to eating anything, anytime of day. During debauchery-filled college weekends, my roommates and I would arise in the p.m. hours, groggy and in need of sustenance, and while Rachael habitually required classic breakfast fare for her first meal of the day, I was content nuking leftover pizza.

This is probably why, when I spent a semester of undergrad in Alicante, Spain, I was completely at home with their custom of serving eggs with everything at any time but breakfast. Hamburguesa especial, a burger piled high with the standard fixin’s and topped with a slice of jamón (the Spanish love their ham) and a fried egg, was a particular artery-clogging fave.

Susana, the sweet Argentine woman who played the part of my madre while I shared her brightly furnished apartment, also loved topping fried pork cutlet with marinara, melted provolone and, of course, a fried egg. (This delicious culprit was a contributing factor to why, despite my pedestrian lifestyle and the five flights of stairs I regularly climbed up to our brightly painted piso, I did not, in fact, lose weight during my six months on the Mediterranean coast.)

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i heart herbs.

i heart herbs.

Especially when they’re fresh. Due to the instant flavor boost they provide, you’d think keeping a variety on hand would be a no-brainer. But in a household of one, buying fresh basil, cilantro, and thyme is pricey, and even with careful planning for recipes over the coming week, I never manage to use it up before the leaves get nasty. And nobody likes nasty leaves.

In the name of saving some bucks and avoiding the evil “W” word (Waste, augh!), I’ve started growing some greens of my own. Thankfully, my mother has a bit of a green thumb and loves to share, so she yanked some wonderfully fragrant lemon thyme from her flower beds and gifted a pot o’ chives that the cat kept eating. So I’m officially outfitted with tasty freshness.

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