Well, I do it all the time, but I love the tradition of the Mother Sauces and Daughter Sauces. The city I live in has the largest farmers market in my state and it truly is an event. First we go down and grab some eggs from the local farm and a really fresh sourdough baguette from the boulangerie that’s about a block away. It’s a lovely stroll and we always stop to visit my dad in his memory assistance home. We’re very outdoorsy and I know quite a few places to hunt native mushrooms in both the spring and fall throughout the state.The market provides us with things like fresh peppers that I can smoke, huge Genovese basil and fresh lox. I do this thing where I’ll start my double boiler and just get it warm, slab the bread into 2 inch portions and start breaking some butter in a skillet while I’ve got a pot of water with a splash of vinegar for soft poaching a few eggs. The trick to wild mushrooms is to brine them overnight so the larva evacuate (I know it sounds gross, but it’s worth it). I always start with the mushrooms and from there-on everything happens super fast so your range is crowded but everything happens in sequence, you just gotta be on your toes! I fry the mushrooms, usually Boletus or Morels in some butter and reduce heat to let them relax, then 2 times flambé with a shot each of cognac. While that’s happening I soft poach a few eggs and fry thick slabs of the baguette in the broken butter, just to the point that the Maillard Reaction happens. Mushrooms come-off, bread gets plated with a thick slab of Gouda from the farm down the road, then I go to work on my Hollandaise: four egg yolks in the double boiler, squeeze half an over-ripe lemon, a shake of salt and twice as much paprika than Julia prescribed (in her book My Life in France) and whisk until you feel like the Hulk. Voila! Once the Hollandaise is done the eggs are perfectly soft and the mushrooms go on the Gouda, then the lox, then an egg and drench with Hollandaise and a little fresh basil. Served with piping-hot pot of Lapsang Souchong tea (if you like black tea, try to find some!) and followed with a mimosa. Before you know it it’s noon, you’ve gone for a three mile walk, visited friends at the farmers market, fed someone you love, taken a minute to watch the birds at the lake and had a very special morning. Best brunch ever! She calls it “Greg’s Benedict” and does this silly little dance while she sits down at the table that her mom tells me she did as a child whenever she was excited about the dinner. The neighbors get the remaining hollandaise. She really is my culinary muse.
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