When I was in the third grade, the teacher asked us to bring our favorite recipe to class. Something our mom made us or whatever.
Since I couldn’t find Hamburger Helper in my mother’s recipe box, I tried to find one that looked the fanciest.
Since quiche wasn’t exactly in my playground vernacular, I knew it would impress.
Even though I had never eaten one before.
(BTW, she just wanted us to bring in the recipe card, not the actual meal)
I don’t recall if the entire classroom broke out in exhuberant applause after the ingredients of my highly exotic and foreign dish were read aloud, but I do know that Mrs. Quiche Lorraine became one of my favorite foods ever.
It’s like I had a sort of sixth sense when I was fumbling through mom’s flour coated recipe box.
When I attempted the quiche above last weekend, I didn’t use a recipe.
I just kind of threw a bunch of shit in the pie crust and flung it, willy-nilly, in the oven.
In retrospect, I probably should have NOT used 18 strips of bacon and a month’s salary worth of cheddar….