Real men eat quiche?

It seems I've run most of the men off from the site. Now let's see if I can run off the women. :-)

I know some of you are squeamish, so just move on from this post. And no, I never kid.

It's just that, you know, it's dinner! And it makes me happy!

One of the ladies at work buys her eggs from another of the ladies at work, just like I do. Well, she forgot and left her eggs in her computer bag all weekend, and found them just this morning. Fortunately, I was there or a dozen fruits of the hen would have been lost. I did not know exactly what to do with them, but they WOULD be eaten.

On the way home, I knew. It would be a quiche.

So, I busted up a dozen eggs, added a half cup or so of milk (I quit measuring a while ago) and hit the fridge. There were a couple bags of half-finished frozen veggies - in they went. There were the pinto beans my boy cooked last week - Perfect. There was that last pound of xtra-xtra sharp cheddar - I scraped the fuzz off all 6 sides of it, and in it went. A little fresh spinach, just because I have too much laying around and have to get it eaten. And the coup de pork - the last pound and a half of the easter ham along with all those good juices. Blend in a couple good shakes of salt, and half a doohicky of herbes de provence and stir.

Then, to grease the pan, coat it with a liberal couple fingers full of bacon drippings - yep just like your grandma used to keep under the kitchen sink in a coffee can. These days it's a yogurt tub, but I'll never quit a habit that kept so many generations of Knox's hale and hearty through the centuries. And finally, scrape the fuzz off a half pound of marble porter cheese to top it all off.

Bake.

How long? Well, until you're ready to eat it, obviously. :-)

When you can smell it real good, it's not quite done. Let it go a bit more.

When I pulled it out, my son asked me what it was. I reminded him that it was quiche (it had been almost two hours since I had announced my intentions) and snickered. His first guess had been meatloaf (porter is a very dark cheese), so he promptly corrected me that I was NOT eating quiche. This was "eggloaf."

Tru' dat.

I've got a post coming soon on depression, but nothing puts a smile on a man's face like a couple pounds of eggloaf.