Category: breakfast (Page 5 of 6)

Our Detroit Lakes Weekend Part I: Eggbake Heaven & “Za” from Zorbaz

My idea of heaven is waking-up to someone else’s eggbake.

Such was the case during our weekend stay at The Lodge On Lake Detroit.

Our room’s balcony overlooked the grassy lawn and clear waters of Lake Detroit.  On our first evening, we giggled as adults polka’d around a campfire on the beach.  During the day, friends gossiped over beer while children built sandcastles.

The view from our balcony

The lodge was immaculately clean and it’s vibe was tranquil.  Obviously, not a prime choice for rowdy party-goers.  We unwound and enjoyed the complimentary wi-fi and watermelon water from the lobby.  Jake swam in the indoor pool while I sat on a beach chair and daydreamed.

My favorite part of our stay was slicing off wedges of the lodge’s eggbake featured at the complimentary breakfast.  This eggbake was no ordinary eggbake.  In fact, it may even be better than your mother’s.  Each morning, the staff gingerly replaced small pans of eggbake made with vegetables, meat, gooey cheese, and fluffy cubes of bread.  On the first morning, I found fresh broccoli, and on the second, rosemary.  While some gravitated toward “make-your-own waffles” or the strange, automated pancake machine, I lined-up for eggbake, dousing it with a selection of hot sauces.

The Lodge also provided three varieties of hot coffee, plus flavored syrups.  Definitely my thing, not Jake’s.

A small bar in the lobby opens at five p.m. and serves bottles of craft beer, wine, cocktails, and a selection of treats such as $3 cheese plates and flat breads.

Overall, we have no complaints about The Lodge.  The staff members were lovely and we returned to Fargo breathing a little easier.

Before we left for Detroit Lakes, we had asked friends and coworkers for dining recommendations.  Nearly everyone pointed us towards Zorbaz.  So, on Friday evening we made the obligatory stop at Zorbaz for our first meal in Detroit Lakes.   We easily located the illuminated “Z” and sat on the patio beneath a neon palm tree.

Zorbaz offers an eclectic “please all” menu of pizza, Mexican-inspired food, and spaghetti.  Jake ordered the “Hot Hawg” pizza that was generously topped with green chili sauce, Canadian bacon, pepperoni, andouille sausage, bacon, and jalapenos.  He seemed satisfied and enjoyed the rest as leftovers.  I didn’t consider it particularly spicy, except for the jalapenos.

I don’t often crave Americanized-Mexican food, but was surprised at how much I enjoyed Zorbaz’s chicken enchiladas.

The chicken was plentiful and moist and the enchilada sauce packed more flavor than Mexican Village could muster.  I noticed the sauce contained rough cuts of fresh vegetables and I appreciated the garnishes of jalapeno and fresh, red onion.

The wristbands were annoying, the atmosphere was fun, and Jake was happy with the surprisingly large tap beer list.  Portion sizes were large considering the prices.  My enchilada plate, alone, contained enough food for three Jeni-sized meals.

We felt the food was tasty, though nothing earth-shattering.  With its relaxed atmosphere and proximity to the main beach, I can see why families look forward to making summer pilgrimages to Zorbaz.

Sidenote: I once dated a man from Philadelphia.  He asked me why Minnesotan’s called pizza, “za.”  I had no idea what he was talking about.  I believe I had my first encounter with “za” at Zorbaz.  When you “za,” do you know?  

 

Solo Road Trip Home Part I: Awkwardly Delicious Breakfast In Rural MN @ Charlie’s Cafe

Although our Easter break is only a couple of weeks away, I felt antsy and wanted to go back home for a quick visit.

I enjoyed a somewhat leisurely Saturday morning and packed up for the Twin Cities.  Even at nine a.m., the fog swirled along I-94 E and made for a drive more amusing and beautiful than the norm.

Having done some prior research via Chowhound, I decided to make a quick breakfast stop in Freeport, MN at Charlie’s Cafe.  Freeport is located about 75-minutes from the Twin Cities and I have always admired it’s smiley water tower-like contraption and beautiful church steeple.

No one seemed to offer any glowing suggestions of breakfast joints along I-94 between the Twin Cities and Fargo, but mentioned Charlie’s Cafe for decent food, accessibility to the freeway, and that it’s supposedly the inspiration behind Garrison Keillor’s Chatterbox Cafe in Lake Wobegon.  It’s website also advertises free wi-fi.

The cafe was literally a few minutes from the freeway.  I admired the amiable, tiny main street and character of the beautiful, old homes.  Charlie’s Cafe was immediately visible due to it’s prominent signage.

Charlie’s Cafe
115 Main Street East
Freeport, MN 56331
(320) 836-2105

The small restaurant was buzzing with families and friends enjoying each other’s company on a beautiful Saturday morning.  Although the restaurant aggressively advertises to weary road travelers on billboards along the interstate, Charlie’s seemed like a cozy gathering spot for locals.  Many of the diners appeared to be happy regulars or familiar with each other.

Once inside, I quickly seated myself, set up my laptop, and placed my order for coffee and a breakfast skillet that included hash browns, vegetables, two eggs, sunny side-up, and the meat of choice, ham.

My server quickly brought me a small pot of hot coffee and I gratefully poured myself a cup to ward of an increasing sensation of sleepiness.  I was happy to see little creamers at my table.  Real cream is best, little creamers are good enough, and powdered, dairy-free creamers are abhorable (for the record, I like my coffee blond and my espresso somewhat less blond).

Minutes later, my server brought my breakfast skillet.

I tested one of the egg yolks and it ran liquid gold.

The exterior of the hash browns was delightfully crispy and interspersed with bits of ham, thin slices of onion, crispy green pepper, canned mushrooms, and melted American cheese.  I felt iffy about the canned mushrooms and American cheese, but appreciated the perfectly cooked eggs and the dish’s lack of visible greasiness.  In fact, all of the skillet elements, from the hash browns to the eggs, tasted rather light. . . as light as a breakfast skillet could possible be.

Not exactly haut cuisine, but the guilty-pleasure type of comfort food that hit the spot during my morning drive.

As a side note, I did my best to nonchalantly enjoy my meal while a table of local, male, senior citizens kept turning around to stare.  This staring activity didn’t seem to be hostile or overtly unwelcoming, but possibly curious.  I guess they may not see too many strange Asian girls with laptops in these parts.  That being said, I ate pretty quickly, as the experience felt a little awkward.  Mind you, these weren’t brief, curious glances (which I have become relatively oblivious to), but full-on, turning around in one’s seat to gawk.

I paid my tally which came to about $9.25, and returned to the road.

In conclusion, I felt the service was friendly and attentive and I also noticed the restaurant advertised German specialties served on Wednesday evenings between 4-8 p.m.  Maybe Jake and I can stop by for German food if we happen to be traveling to or from the cities.

Do you have any suggestions for food-related stops between the Twin Cities and Fargo?

Stay tuned for Solo Road Trip Home Part II where this Hunger Games virgin brings my family to Dong Yang for some amazing Korean food and stern Korean grandmothering, and suffers a near meltdown after seeing the film (a.k.a. omg, so that’s what they mean by “games”).

Soothing Baked Oatmeal

Last night I dreamt that I turned into a trajectory.

I do not even know what a trajectory is.  And I’m still unclear, even after reading the Wikipedia entry.  But when I work up in the morning, my heart raced with adrenaline before I realized that I had not, in fact, turned into a trajectory.

Such were my dreams after eating soul-killing hot sauce from the previous night’s take-out taco disaster, combined with three TUMS, and enough Valerian root to make the whole world shut-up and fade into terrifying dreams.

After a day and second evening with an aching stomach, I spontaneously whipped together a version of Baked Oatmeal, from Funwithfood, found on the Homecooking Chowhound post, Do you have a recipe that works so well that you have no interest in trying another?

The only food that sounded remotely appetizing.

I whipped up a quick berry sauce using a bag of frozen berries I found in my fridge.  Any type of berries you have on hand would work beautifully.  Not to mention other varieties of fresh fruit such as mangoes or apples.

Baked Oatmeal

Ingredients
3 large eggs, as close to room temperature as possible
1/2 cup of fine, raw cane sugar
1/2 cup of lightly packed brown sugar
1/2 cup vegetable oil (not olive oil)
3 1/2 cups of instant/quick cook oats
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon sea salt
1 1/3 cup milk (all I had was skim)
Dash of powdered ginger
Dash of cinnamon
Splash of vanilla extract

Easy Berry Sauce
1 bag of frozen berries
Splash of lemon or lime juice
Splash of water
Pinch of salt
Drizzle of honey

Directions
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

Grease a large baking dish.  I prefer smearing mine with butter.

In a large bowl, mix the eggs until frothy.  Then, stir in the oil, sugar, and brown sugar.

Once combined, stir in the oats, baking powder, salt, milk, ginger, cinnamon, and vanilla extract.

Pour into the greased pan, slide back and forth until the oats are distributed relatively evenly and bake for 40-50 minutes.  The top edges of the oatmeal should be golden brown, yet moist and fluffy in the middle.

To make the berry sauce, heat the berries, water, honey, and pinch of salt in a small saucepan, until warm and bubbly.  Add more or less honey and lemon juice to taste.

Serve in a bowl, accompanied by the warm berry sauce and cool milk.

Sacramento Day Three: Morning Horchata, Eel, Turkish Food, & One Last Breakfast

I’m not one who craves coffee enough to make it myself, but when it’s waiting outside my door in the morning, I can’t help but to indulge.  After my cup of blond coffee, I ate half a broiled grapefruit and french toast drizzled with real maple syrup, sauteed plums, fresh kiwi, and crispy bacon.

My family decided to accompany my brother to Tahoe so he could snowboard.  The thought of spending the whole day in a car was more than I could stomach physically and mentally (plus I am prone to getting motion sickness as a passenger).  So my folks and brother made the nearly three hour drive to Tahoe while I explored the city.
After breakfast, I headed to Davis, a 20-minutes drive from Sacramento, to stroll through the city’s year-round, outdoor farmers market.  Davis was heaven and I beamed as I walked through cozy neighborhoods and shuffled through crunchy leaves.

I wandered through the many vendors and marveled at the fresh, local, and organic produce.  Vibrant fruits such as pomegranates and persimmons, considered exotic by Midwestern norms, were commonplace.

At the end of market were vendors serving a variety of hot foods.  I bought a jalapeno and cheese tamale and horchata from Montoya Tamales.

I added a spicy, red salsa to the tamale and settled on a park bench.  The tamale was light and fluffy and streamed with melted cheese and spicy chili.  I used to think I hated tamales because the only versions I had eaten in the Midwest were leaden and dry.  Traveling through central Mexico redefined tamales and this version was every bit as delicate and spicy.

After spending time at the market, I visited Oto’s Marketplace, a Japanese grocery store in Sacramento.  Many sources online sang Oto’s praises, mentioned their deli and sushi offerings, and spoke of Japanese individuals who considered the market worth a long drive.

I parked in the tight parking lot, reminiscent of Trader Joe’s parking lots of death, and wandered the store’s aisles admiring their large selections of sauces, noodles, and tea.  Full and limited to a small carry-on, I was tempted by giant slices of baum cake, poke and sake.

At the deli, I ordered eel and tuna nigiri which was freshly made by Ray Yamamoto.

 

I’m not a sushi expert, but compared to every version I have ever consumed, this was the best.

 

The rice was delicately shaped and room temperature.  The tuna was plush and naughtily silky.  The eel was caramel-colored and melted in my mouth.  The lack of a sticky, sweet eel sauce let the eel’s rich savoriness shine.
Prelude to Dinner
Full, I returned to The Amber House and took a long walk through the adjacent neighborhoods and to the downtown area.  After I collapsed into a firm nap, the phone rang and thus began the dinner negotiations.
The folks were exhausted from the long drive and anticipated a 3:30 a.m. wake up call to catch their flight home, so they asked me to choose a restaurant near Rocklin.  I’m not sure if they were really ready to accept my choice of a restaurant for dinner.  The non-chain restaurants were limited to international options and my father balked at my first suggestions.  When I defeatedly threw out “The Cheesecake Factory,” my dad insisted we go.  I burst into laughter when I heard my brother let out an exasperated uggggh. . . nooooo. . . Somehow, someway, my brother and Joan took over and convinced my Dad to meet me at Antolian’s Table, a Turkish restaurant in Rocklin.
Jeni’s Vacation Rule #2: Avoid eating at chain restaurant unless it’s a local chain.  
6815 Lonetree Blvd
Rocklin, CA 95765
 
Having never eaten Turkish food, I excitedly flipped through Anatolian Table’s extensive menu.  I started my meal with piping hot tea served in a little glass cup and we were brought to complimentary hummus and bread because our order took longer than expected to arrive.  While the bread did not seem to be of a special Turkish variety, it was freshly baked and straight from the oven.
The hummus was really fantastic and buttery smooth.
Joan and I ordered our waiter’s suggestion of Yogurtlu Betyi Kebap, which he recommended as one of the restaurants spiciest entrees.  The entree came with a fresh salad made of shredded, non-ice burg lettuce, cucumber, shaved onions, and tangy red cabbage.  I stirred the vegetables together and the salad perfectly complimented our rich entrees.
The Yogurtlu Betyi Kebap consisted of a kabob of slightly spicy, moist ground lamb wrapped in flat bread.  The kabob sat in a cool yogurt sauce and was topped with a mild tomato sauce that may have included creamy eggplant.  Online, there was some mention that the owner makes his own yogurt and if this is accurate, I wouldn’t be surprised as it tasted quite special.

Even the two more hesitant eaters reluctantly agreed that it was delicious even though they had to be cajoled into taking bites.

My brother ordered the Tavulku Pide, described as “chunks of tender chicken meat mixed with spices on crusted dough.”

While the chicken was indeed tender, the meat’s sauce and seasoning struck my brother and I as a little bland.
Overall, we enjoyed our meal, belly dancer and all.  The food took longer than expected to arrive at our table, but we appreciated the complimentary bread and hummus and I especially enjoyed my lamb dish.  Anatolian Table is a worthwhile restaurant to visit and a unique option amongst an ocean of chains and insanely expensive, frou frou options.
My Last Breakfast
 

Fresh fruit salad dressed with a sweet, tangy, and spicy dressing similar to the chili-lime flavoring in Mexico.

Below is a crustless vegetable quiche made with roasted red peppers, spinach, and salty feta cheese accompanied by more crispy, seasoned potatoes.

 
A wonderful sendoff back to the frozen tundra.

Sacramento Day Two: Poached Pear Breakfast, a Toxic Bridge, Don Pancho’s, & Cookies for Dinner

Poached Pear and Scrambled Eggs for Breakfast
I awoke in the morning to find the local newspaper and a tray loaded with hot coffee and fresh cream outside my door.  Guests can choose the time and location of their breakfast, and I chose to eat in my room.  Usually, I welcome the experience of sharing breakfast with strangers, but the option of eating in my PJ’s, bleary eyed and unbathed was too tempting.  Plus, I was groggy from being awakened early in the morning due to an obnoxiously loud, crash-banging guest downstairs (this did not occur again).

Carol, the housekeeper, was a joy my entire stay.  She brought me orange juice and a shallow bowl cradling half a poached pear in a warm sauce garnished with plump raisins.  The sauce was nicely balanced.  Not overly sweet and warmly spiced.

My second course included soft-cooked scrambled eggs with cream cheese and scallion, and crispy potatoes.  

Eventually, I headed to Rocklin, a quit suburb located 30 minutes from Sacramento.  With white knuckles, I navigated my rental car down a six-lane freeway and experienced traffic culture shock as the slowest person seemed to be moving at least 10 miles over the speed limit.  A simple lane change required gunning the engine, lest remain stuck for miles.  My brother reminisced about driving through L.A. where cars traveled 20 miles over the speed limit.  Most people in the Twin Cities seem to drive about five miles over the speed limit, while in Fargo, it’s five below (which is probably why I received my first speeding ticket).

The city of Rocklin was beautiful.  We took the landlord’s charming dog for a walk along the railroad tracks, passing small farms and a greenhouse.  I giggled as herds of cows turned around and pensively stared as we passed by.  The dog enjoyed a game of fetch as she lept in and out of a small spring-fed pond.

Toxic Bridge
Before lunch, Kevin led us to Foresthill Bridge in Loomis, CA.  The Foresthill Bridge, the highest bridge in California, crosses the American River.  Suspended over a rugged valley, the bridge is both beautiful and tragic, as many have utilized it to commit suicide.

Although the bridge has walking paths on both sides, a “seismic retrofit” construction project began in January 201l, restricting half of the sidewalk.  The construction process involves earthquake proofing, repainting, and installing higher guardrails.  As we were about to cross the bridge by foot, I stopped to read these glaring signs.

Lead?  Cadmium?  Arsenic?  No thanks.  You had me at the orange “Poison” sign with the skull and crossbones.  Joan and I recoiled and immediately walked back to the car, while the men kept walking.

Lunch at Don Pancho’s
4563 Rocklin Ave
Rocklin, CA 95677

For lunch, my brother took us to a homey Mexican restaurant in Rocklin.  While we waited for our meals, we snacked on complimentary chips and salsa.  The chips were freshly fried and the salsa was vibrant, thick, and slightly spicy.  Could the salsa have been thickened with masa?  I was disappointed the restaurant did not serve horchata so I settled for a strawberry Jarrito instead.

As an entree, I ordered a Taco al Pastor.  

My plate included a large taco made with double corn tortillas and filled with marinated al Pastor meat. The best tasting part of my plate was the al Pastor meat which was crispy and moist and compellingly flavored, striking a balance between tangy, sweet, savory and salty.  One bite was a little too crispy and, for a moment, I feared it dismantled my crown.

Since my trip to Mexico, I have become a taco minimalist and prefer them simply garnished with onion, cilantro, lime, and a spicy salsa.  I was not so crazy about the addition of shredded cheese, sour cream, ice burg lettuce, and melted cheese, however my family was thrilled with their meals.  The food was obviously made with care.

I also snuck a bite of a chicken enchilada and some carnitas meat which was moist and flavorful.

Cookies for Dinner
In the later afternoon, we wandered through Old Sacramento and munched on free candy samples.  My family decided to see a movie, so I gracefully bowed out, retreated to my Amber House sanctuary, and planned to meet up with them for dinner.  
Jeni’s Vacation Rule #1: Never see a movie while on vacation, unless the trip is at least a week long.  
Unfortunately, the movie ran longer than expected and by the time it was over, no one wanted to dine out.  My folks had already grabbed a microwavable frozen pizza and I was too sleepy to drive.  
Sacramento may be no L.A. in terms of food diversity and offerings, but compared to Fargo, let alone the Twin Cities, it’s a foodie paradise.  The thought of all of the food possibilities drove me into a dizzy tailspin.  
I ate cookies for dinner, vowing to eat the hell out of the next day, hell or high water. 
And so I did.  
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