It's not that I don't like company. But there's something really nice about having the house to yourself and still chopping some vegetables and making a substantial meal for yourself around noon on a Wednesday. Yesterday, with drizzle looming over Oakland, I put our new baby cast iron to work and make a little frittata, a la Bill Stehlin (John's dad, who has perfected this breakfast food).
Some onions cooked til brown and sticky, red pepper and spinach. Then two eggs whisked together with heavy cream, salt, pepper and a shake of sugar, a secret that makes any sort of egg dish a little bit better than it would otherwise be. This is all poured over top of the vegetables, covered and then cooked a few minutes on top of the stove until set. Then thrown into the broiler with some shredded monterey jack until brown and visibly delectable. It slid right out of that well-seasoned pan, and folded just slightly in half.
I've started to take my breakfast plate with a side of vinaigrette, in lieu of ketchup, and some buttered toast. With a little shake of some hot sauce on top, that was it. Brunch for one.