Pitter patter, pitter patter. Billowy clouds looming over trees. That, to me, signals a green light to doze away, droop on a couch with eyes glued to a screen or better yet, dig my nose in a book, never to see sunlight again.
But as much as I am sluggish, when the clock ticks six, my stomach feels the need to make its presence known, which reminds me, of course, to feed it.

So here I am. Belly protruding, hands and clothes smelling...not especially welcoming. Yet I am pleased!
My mother had alerted me with the blooming betel leaves in our garden, a duskier green this season, rather than the pastel of earlier spring, and nine times out of ten, this implies bo la lot (beef wrapped in betel leaves). In our household, where preferences lie for deeper, darker flavours, this Vietnamese specialty is often served with mam nem. Repeat that again. Mam nem. It's a dangerous thing to those unaccustomed. A funky, murky sauce comprised of (mainly) fermented anchovies, garlic, chilli and pineapple chunks, the flavours heavily spiked with fishy notes; your nose, you will soon realise from even a block away, will pick up its pungency.
There is no point denying it, so yes, mam nem is certainly intimidating for the uninitiated. Still, once your palate befriends the sharp savoury-sweet-spiciness of the sauce, there is no.turning.back.
But please, don't wear your best shirt.

And there it sat. Yesterday's pain, today's pleasure. A pan full of knobbly pumpkin, crispy around the edges, hued in russet. Appearing quite generously, slices of well-fatted chorizo round off the earthiness, giving it intrigue, giving it a little smoky-savory. Dig further still and notice the sweet bursts of corn nestled in and peeping out.

Last night, this formed the basis of a taco filling. Then - boom! - bad tortillas, ghastly tortillas. Tortillas more akin to rubber tyres. So away the garnishings went, in the fridge, caged within foil, tightly bounded in cling wrap. "Never agaiiiiiin!" you howl.

Yet, allow the mind some snooze time, for the day to blow, and maybe for the sharpened tongue to loosen too, and a small miracle may come to pass. Now when I say "miracle", settle down, this is hardly of cinematic scope. I mean to say, I somehow managed to make something delicious! Out of a damned mess, no less. And so it follows...

Begin with corn.  Sweat the sweet, juicy kernals of 1 cob (or half, as shown below) and 1 clove of minced garlic in a stainless steel pan (note: steel handle included) with good olive oil.

I then added my chorizo-pumpkin mixture. Earlier, I had sauted the chorizo (sliced) in a pan with minced garlic and shallots, while I roasted cubed pumpkin in the oven, which had been tossed about in smashed garlic, sea salt and olive oil. Once burnished, I then threw in the pumpkin along with the chorizo sizzling away in the pan.

Obviously, I am using leftovers so they are well-cooked. It doesn't matter that yours may not be. The point is you want the chorizo-pumpkin to be well caramelised and browned-sticky at the bottom of the pan. Exact measurements isn't of concern, either. Want a buttery mouthfeel? A clove or more of garlic. Needs more depth? A dash or two of dried herbs (I used garlic and herb seasoning). More salt? More pepper? You get my drift. By the way, you could very well use potatoes in place of pumpkin. Pumpkin, though, is still my first choice.

Next, using a spoon, make way for two or three eggs in the mixture (I prefer odd numbers, though my heaving stomach perhaps disagrees). Simply create slight dimples. Crack the eggs directly into the pan, into said dimples.

Then - and careful here - using a thick tea towel or kitchen mittens to hold the handle, place the pan in the oven at about 200C. At this point, you need to get to know your own oven, so no exact time is given but bake for approximately 5 to 8 minutes. I slightly overdid mine, busy flashing my camera and whatnot. No matter, scrumptious all the same. Ignoring mine, the aim is to retain gooey, soft yolks.

Toast slices of fresh ciabatta to serve alongside. Oh. This happens to be especially good with a tipple of Australian ginger beer.