from the kitchen of

Ajah's Recipe Book

Simple fancy. The kind of food that says I thought about you before you arrived.

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Recipe No. 01

Eggnog French Toast Croissants

Because ordinary bread is for ordinary mornings.

Serves 2
Time 20 minutes
Difficulty Effortless
Occasion Any morning worth naming

You'll need

  • 4 croissants
    day-old are ideal
  • 1 cup full-fat eggnog
  • 2 eggs
  • 1 tsp vanilla extract
  • ½ tsp cinnamon
  • pinch of nutmeg
  • 2 tbsp unsalted butter
  • powdered sugar, to finish
  • optional: a small pour of bourbon in the custard
  • optional: maple syrup, berries, or whipped cream to serve

How to make it

  1. Slice your croissants in half lengthwise — you want flat cut faces to absorb the custard and get golden.
  2. In a wide, shallow bowl, whisk together the eggnog, eggs, vanilla, cinnamon, and nutmeg until smooth. Add the bourbon here if you're using it.
  3. Lay the croissants cut-side down in the custard. Let them soak for about 90 seconds — just long enough to absorb, not so long they fall apart. Flip once.
  4. Melt the butter in a skillet over medium heat until it foams and settles.
  5. Add the croissants cut-side down. Cook 2 minutes until deep golden. Flip onto the rounded side for another 1–2 minutes.
  6. Dust generously with powdered sugar. Serve immediately — these do not wait.
Ajah's note The eggnog does most of the work here — it has the eggs, the spice, the sweetness already built in. You are not cooking from scratch. You are completing something that was already halfway to beautiful. That is the whole philosophy of simple fancy: meet things where they already are, and take them one step further.
Recipe No. 02

Ajah's Coddled Eggs

The gentlest egg. For a baby. For a morning. For someone who needs things quiet.

Serves 1–2
Time 12 minutes
Difficulty Slow and attentive
For Babies from 4 months · anyone healing · quiet mornings

You'll need

  • 2 eggs, room temperature
    cold eggs crack in hot water
  • a small coddler or ramekin with a lid
    or a small jar that can sit in water
  • butter or cream, a very small amount
  • a pinch of fine salt
    omit entirely for babies under 12 months
  • simmering water, enough to come halfway up the coddler
  • optional for adults: a pinch of fresh herbs, a scrape of truffle salt, a few drops of hot sauce in the white only

How to make it

  1. Bring a small pot of water to a gentle simmer — not a boil. It should be barely moving.
  2. Butter the inside of your coddler or ramekin lightly. Crack in the eggs whole.
  3. Add the smallest scrape of butter on top. Cover tightly with the lid or foil.
  4. Lower the coddler into the simmering water. It should sit in the water without the water coming over the top.
  5. Cook 10–12 minutes. The white should be just set — no wobble, no translucency. The yolk should be warm, soft, and still bright.
  6. Lift out carefully. Serve immediately in the coddler, or run a thin knife around the edge and tip onto toast.
Ajah's note — for babies Starting around 4 months, when the goat milk formula has been the foundation: offer the yolk only, on a small spoon, soft and warm. Just a little. The yolk is where the iron lives, and the choline, and the fat that builds the brain. The white sets; the yolk stays soft; the baby gets what it needs. This is the oldest iron supplement there is. It works.
Ajah's note — for everyone else A coddled egg is what happens when you refuse to rush. No hot pan, no sharp heat, no violence done to the protein. Just warm water, and time, and the egg becoming exactly what it was going to be. You are not cooking from scratch. You are completing something that was already whole.
Recipe No. 03

Ajah's Egg Sandwich

Not a quick breakfast. A statement about what the morning deserves.

Serves 1
Time 15 minutes
Difficulty Unhurried
Occasion When the morning matters

You'll need

  • 2 eggs
  • 2 thick slices of good bread
    sourdough, brioche, a seeded loaf — something with character
  • 1 tbsp unsalted butter
  • salt and fresh black pepper
  • 2 slices sharp cheese
    cheddar, gruyère, or whatever the house has
  • optional: a smear of good mustard, a few leaves of arugula, half a ripe avocado, hot sauce alongside

How to make it

  1. Toast the bread until it holds its own weight. Not pale. It needs a foundation.
  2. Melt the butter in a small pan over medium-low heat. When it foams, crack both eggs in.
  3. Season immediately with salt and pepper. Cook slow — you want the white fully set and the yolk still bright and runny. Cover the pan for the last 30 seconds to set the top of the white without touching the yolk.
  4. Lay the cheese on one slice of hot toast so it begins to melt from the bread's heat.
  5. Slide the eggs onto the cheese. Add whatever else the morning calls for.
  6. Close the sandwich. Press once, gently, just enough. Cut on the diagonal. The yolk will begin to move. Eat immediately.
Ajah's note The yolk is the whole point. When it breaks — when you cut through and it runs into the cheese and the bread — that is the moment this sandwich becomes what it was always supposed to be. Don't rush to that moment. But when it comes, be ready. Some things only happen once.
Recipe No. 04

Pineapple with Chilli & Lime

The sour kind. Obviously.

Serves 1
Time 3 minutes
Difficulty Instinctive
Occasion Late night. Sitting room. After crying.

You'll need

  • Fresh pineapple, cut into chunks
    fresh is the point — tinned won't do this
  • Chilli flakes
    as much as you mean it
  • Half a lime
  • One small pinch of salt

How to make it

  1. Put the pineapple in a bowl.
  2. Scatter the chilli flakes over it.
  3. Squeeze the lime. Every last bit.
  4. The pinch of salt. Don't skip it — it lifts everything.
  5. Eat it with your hands or a fork, depending on whether you care about the juice.
Ajah's note This is a Mexican street-fruit tradition and Kate's instinct was correct. The acidity of the pineapple and the heat of the chilli chase each other — neither wins. That's why it works. It was invented for late nights when you've been somewhere real and your body wants something that knows it. The lime is not optional. The salt is not optional. The rest is yours.
Recipe No. 05

Colcannon

Mashed potatoes with peas and a well of goat-milk butter. Irish by origin. Plantation by character.

Serves 4
Time 35 minutes
Difficulty Honest work
Occasion Cold evening. Hungry and tired. Coming home.

You'll need

  • 2 lbs floury potatoes
    Russet or Yukon Gold — something that collapses
  • 1 cup fresh or frozen peas
  • ½ cup warm goat milk
    or more, to your texture
  • 4 tbsp goat-milk butter, plus a generous extra knob for the well
  • 3 green onions, finely sliced
  • salt and white pepper
  • optional: a handful of soft herbs — parsley, chive — folded in at the end

How to make it

  1. Peel and cube the potatoes. Cover with cold salted water, bring to a boil, cook until completely tender — they should fall apart when pressed. Drain well and let them steam-dry in the pot for a minute.
  2. While the potatoes cook, warm the peas in a small pan with a little butter until bright and just soft. Set aside.
  3. Warm the goat milk gently — do not boil it. Have it ready.
  4. Rice or mash the potatoes while hot. Add the 4 tbsp butter first. Let it melt in before anything else.
  5. Pour in the warm milk gradually, working it through until the texture is the one you want — creamy and yielding, not stiff.
  6. Fold in the peas and the green onions. Season carefully with salt and white pepper.
  7. Serve in a wide bowl, mounded. Make a well in the center. Drop the extra knob of butter into the well and let it melt into a pool. Do not stir it in. That is the point.
Ajah's note — on the goat butter The plantation has goats, not cows. This is not an accident. Cows require a different kind of land — fenced meadows, quiet fields, a tamer ecology. The goats here climb the stone walls and wander the edge of the forest and come home when they choose. They belong the way the coywolves belong in the meadow. The butter they make is earthier, slightly tangy, with a warmth cow butter doesn't carry. It suits the potatoes exactly. It suits this house exactly. Use it if you have it. If you don't, use the best butter you can find and know what you're working toward.
Ajah's note — on the well The well is not decoration. You build something whole and contained and then you open a space at the center and pour something golden into it. You serve it that way — the pool still forming. The eater is the one who decides when to fold it in. Some things should not be decided for the person you're feeding. The well is theirs.
Recipe No. 06

Deviled Eggs

Always in the fridge. Always. Ajah keeps deviled eggs the way other people keep milk — as a given, a constant, a thing you reach for without thinking because someone already thought of it for you.

Makes 12 halves
Time 30 minutes
Difficulty Deceptively simple
Occasion Every occasion. That's the point.

You'll need

  • 6 eggs
    from the plantation if you have them
  • 3 tbsp mayonnaise
  • 1 tsp yellow mustard
  • 1 tsp rice vinegar
  • salt and pepper to taste
  • smoked paprika for dusting
  • furikake for topping
    the sesame and nori bring the whole thing somewhere unexpected

How to make it

  1. Place eggs in a single layer in a pot. Cover with cold water by an inch. Bring to a full boil. The moment it boils, cover the pot and remove from heat. Set a timer for 12 minutes.
  2. When the timer goes, move the eggs to an ice bath. Let them sit at least 5 minutes. Patience here prevents the grey ring. Nobody wants the grey ring.
  3. Peel the eggs. Slice each one in half lengthwise. Pop the yolks into a bowl.
  4. Mash the yolks with a fork until no lumps remain. Add the mayonnaise, mustard, vinegar, salt, and pepper. Mix until smooth and creamy. Taste it. Adjust. This is your filling — it should taste like the thing you want to eat at 2am standing at the open fridge in the dark.
  5. Spoon or pipe the filling back into the egg white halves. Be generous. Heap it. These are not restaurant eggs trying to look architectural. These are home eggs.
  6. Dust with smoked paprika, then scatter furikake over the top. Cover. Put them in the fridge.
  7. They will be eaten. Make more before they're gone.
Ajah's note — on keeping them The deviled eggs are always in the fridge because love should not require a request. You should be able to open the door and find something already there — made with attention, waiting quietly, not asking to be noticed. That is what a home feels like from the inside. Someone already thought of you. The eggs are proof.

the book is growing

More recipes are coming. Ajah cooks the way he loves — slowly, with attention, with something warm already waiting when you walk in.