Brunch with Mon Oncle; A Toast to the Slow and Steady; The Fried Egg in Your Face Post

 A couple days after my West Oakland dinner, my Uncle Stan came by Saturday morning to check on my sliced finger and me [I had stupidly slit the tip with a carving knife the night before]. Luckily, it wasn’t bad enough that we had to go to the hospital, so he just bandaged me up and then we got to chatting a bit. When brunch time came round, I offered to make something for him. Well, with my minor handicap, I ended up making a spontaneous brunch with him, rather than for him. With the summer squash and other veggies I had left over from the West Oakland dinner, we made a tasty stir-fry using Ratto’s Olive Oil from Ratto’s Italian Market in Oakland. My friend, Meredith, had introduced me to this magical olive oil that makes absolutely everything taste like ambrosia. Even though he said he didn’t cook too often, Uncle Stan chopped those vegetables masterfully and with great precision. I also had a loaf of Acme wheat bread that we sliced up and grilled in the pan with Pyrenees Black Pepper Corn soft cheese that melted into a layer of warm cheesy goodness between the two crisp bread slices. The goal was to make fried egg sandwiches, but I wanted to keep the yolk uncooked, so I cooked the eggs separately and then added them to the sandwiches. This resulted in a somewhat messy, in-your-face egg sandwich, but it was worth having the delicious liquid gold run down my fingers. In my opinion, some fried egg sandwiches have eggs that are completely overcooked to the point of being leathery and unappetizing. To balance the richness of the fried egg sandwich, we had an undressed salad of mixed greens on the side. We finished with a bowl of fresh berries and green figs, yum!

Professional Onion-Cutter

 

Licking up liquid gold

During this whole brunch bonanza, Uncle Stan and I were talking and bouncing ideas and thoughts off of each other like usual. I always appreciate his company, because as my mom says, we are kind of “birds of a feather”- both somewhat slow, thoughtful and methodical. I move at a snailish pace sometimes, which drives some people crazy, so it’s nice to know I’m in good company. Like the loveably innocent uncle in the French Jacques Tati movie, Mon Oncle [My Uncle] or the fresh bunch of mixed greens on our plates, my Uncle Stan has such a refreshingly unwilted view of the world and of life. I can tell him all the qualms or newly developed thoughts I have, and he always give me pieces of encouraging advice or well-formed wisdom. I feel so lucky to have him as an uncle. Even when I get fried egg in my face and all over the place, he doesn’t judge me but brings out the silliness in the situation. Our conversations are full of laughter and listening- two things no one should live without. Thank you, mon oncle, for being you. Without you, being me would feel so much more solitary. To the slow and steady! May we eventually win the race!