Tag Archives: bacon

Dairy-Free Bacon and Kale Crustless Quiche

No cheese? No cream or milk? Believe it, because it works: welcome to the dairy-free (and gluten-free) quiche.

This is the perfect quiche to bring to a group event where there may be people with special dietary needs. My friend Sarah (a fabulous cook, by the way) brought this to our women’s ministry brunch a number of months ago, and it’s really delicious. While there’s no cheese, the bacon adds the richness that could have been lost when the cheese got the boot. Plus, as my husband said after eating two generous slices of this, it doesn’t give you the feeling of “I never want to eat again” that a really rich quiche can produce after one hefty serving. Know that feeling? Not the best sensation. In fact, after 3 slices of this quiche for dinner, I was feeling great, light on my feet, and my stomach was a happy place.

The flavor of the coconut milk is definitely present, and while I loved it, my husband was a little wigged out by it. So if you’re one to be wigged out by coconut milk, this may not be the dish for you. But if you’re lactose intolerant, this is such a great alternative to traditional quiche–and I’ll be making it again even though I’m all about the lactose and the gluten. Because it’s tasty, man.

Adapted from this recipe, let’s make it this morning, eh? Eh.

Ingredients

(Serves 4)

5 eggs
1-15 oz can coconut milk
5 pieces of bacon
1 onion, diced
1/2 bunch of kale or spinach
1/4 cup white wine
salt and pepper

Preheat the oven to 350ºF. 

Warm the eggs and coconut milk until they reach room temperature (you can sit them in a warm water bath for 15 minutes to accomplish this).

Dice the bacon and fry it in a large skillet over medium high heat.

While the bacon fries, dice the onion . . .

. . . and chop up the kale or spinach.

Today, it’s kale all the way.

When the bacon is close to being crispy, drain most of the bacon fat out of the skillet . . .

. . . and add the onion.

Fry for 8 minutes over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until the onion is starting to brown.

Add the kale or spinach . . .

. . . and sauté for about 2 minutes, or until wilted.

Add the wine, and continue to cook until the liquid evaporates (another 3-4 minutes).

Sooooo good.

Let the bacon and veggies cool down for about 15 minutes (you can spread them out on a plate to speed up this step).

I may have taken a few bites of this and promised myself that I would soon make a bacon/onion/kale sauté that I could simply eat piled over white rice. I recommend that you do the same.

Beat the eggs and coconut milk in a large bowl . . .

(bowl pictured not large enough = transfer to a different bowl)

. . . adding salt and pepper (about ¼ tsp of salt).

Whisk the bacon and veggies into the eggs until they are well suspended in the egg mixture. Grease an 8×8 glass dish or a pie pan with coconut oil or cooking spray, and pour in the egg mixture.

Bake for 35-45 minutes, or until the center has solidified.

Remove the quiche from the oven and let it sit for about 15 minutes so that the eggs set.

Dig in!

Oh my word. How I love this quiche. How I love the kale within . . .

. . . and the bacon within.

 It’s a winner!

Click here for printer-friendly version: Dairy-Free Bacon and Kale Crustless Quiche

Frijoles Charros

This recipe is an old classic, taken from my teenage recipe collection. Behold the binder of my youth!

My sister Erica and I bought matching binders when I was about 16 years old, and faithfully copied in our favorite family recipes. However, in my enthusiasm for Tasty Kitchen, America’s Test Kitchen, and various and sundry food blogs, I haven’t accessed the lore in this little book for quite a while. I wonder what else is in here . . .

. . . oooh! Pork Shreds with Hoisin Sauce! I must mend the error of my ways and make some Mom classics.

As for these beans, I just love them.

When I was first drafting this post, I was under the impression that Mom learned how to make this dish when she studied abroad in Mexico during her college years. Thankfully, I took the time to check my sources, and it turns out that she learned it when we lived in Valencia from our neighbor Wendy, who in turn learned how to make it in Mexico. I think. Either way, for me it brings back so many comforting childhood memories. Thanks for so many years of quality food, Mom. You fed us well!

Ingredients

(Serves 6-8)

2 1/2 – 3 cups brown, black, red or pinto beans
1 onion
1-28 oz can diced tomatoes
6 cloves garlic
1 lb bacon
1 bunch cilantro
2 jalapeño chilies
Salt and pepper, to taste

Cover the beans with water and soak them overnight.

That picture kind of looks like a cloud of darkness, but I promise–there are beans in there.

The next day, when you’ve rolled up your sleeves and you’re ready to cook, rinse and wash the beans under running water.

Yep, that stream of water is looking quite weak. In fact, in about an hour our water was about to be turned off for the rest of the night. Why the City of Chicago waited until 5pm on Monday to start working on a leak that had reduced our water to a thin trickle 3 days prior is a mystery to me–all I can say is that we fell asleep to the tune of drillhammers tearing up the street at 11pm. Thankfully the project manager warned me that our water was about to be off just as I turned into our apartment complex, which enabled us to stockpile the H2O like aquabandits:

But back to the beans! Once they’re nice and clean, return them to the pot . . .

. . . and cover them with water (about 1 inch above the beans). If perchance you forget to soak the beans, just increase the cooking time by about 1 1/2 hours.

Let’s gather the remaining ingredients to our collective bosom:

Add the can of tomatoes to the pot:

Mince the garlic and toss it into the pot–or you can squeeze it straight in with a garlic press. I think I’ll call mine a ‘garlique press.’ It makes me feel more French.

Chop the onion finely (okay, my chop was quite rough) and toss that in the pot too:

Mince up the jalapeño chilies:

You can remove the seeds to suit your preferred level of spiciness–I cut out the seeds from one and left them in the other.

Toss ’em in the pot!

Are you sensing a pattern here? A ‘tossing in the pot’ pattern? In fact, it’s beyond me why this recipe isn’t just called ‘Toss ‘Em in the Pot Beans.’

Roughly chop the cilantro . . .

. . . and you guessed it. The thing with the pot again. But only toss in half of the cilantro, because the other half is going to be a garnish!

This is my bowl of reserved cilantro–it will add a note of brightness to what could otherwise be a very brown dish.

Dice the bacon . . .

. . . and fry it until crisp.

Nope, still too floppy.

Zer ve go, fraülein! This blog brings out the weird accents in me–it just can’t be helped.

Reserve a small amount of bacon for a crispy garnish . . .

. . . and then add the rest to the pot as well.

As you can see in the above picture, I didn’t wait until the bacon was done to start cooking the beans. Basically, as soon as the beans are rinsed and covered in water again, I turn the heat on medium high and bring the beans to a boil. Then I add ingredients as they become available. This saves time, which is key since this dish has a looooong cooking time. Once the beans are boiling, lower the heat, cover the pot, and cook for 2 1/2 to 3 hours (until the beans are very tender), stirring occasionally.

The colors were very bright to begin with, but as it cooks all the ingredients will start to Become One. Unfortunately, the bacon will also become floppy again–there’s no way around it. That’s why setting some crispy pieces aside is so key.

See? Uglier, but so much more delicious!

During this time, add generous amounts of salt and pepper:

Check the pot periodically and add water as needed so that the beans stay covered. During the last half an hour of cooking, remove the cover so that the excess water evaporates:

As soon as you’ve tasted it, the beans are soft enough, and the seasoning is to your satisfaction, serve over rice!

Don’t forget to sprinkle that extra bacon and cilantro over top.

This always hits the spot.

I love this dish like it was my own child.

Click here for printer-friendly version: Frijoles Charros