Wednesday, May 6, 2009

The Devil Eats Pringles

I fell asleep the other night after reading my new issue of Food & Wine. Note to self: Make the mango sticky rice, make the mango sticky rice.

I had a dream. In this dream, I worked in a very large food emporium. I was training to do whatever one does when one works in a food emporium. Which I don't think I've really been in one recently, not since I went to Harrod's in London many moons ago. But I digress. Wait! The old Food Hall in Strawbridge's. Small, but rather emporium-ish. And there's always the French Market in New Orleans and Reading Terminal in Philly. Okay, yeah, I've emporiumed.

Moving on. I was sent to fetch cheese but wasn't sure what to get. Stanley Tucci appeared from out of nowhere and shoved a piece of blue cheese at me, barking "Eat this!" Yeah, okay, I'm eating. So I ate it. He then told me I was "ripe for the learning of cheese" and led me to a huge display of Wensleydale with cranberries. Now, I've always loved looking at this, never tried it, but when Stanley Tucci--in a dream--shoves a piece into your mouth shrieking "Yes! Yes! It is the cheese! You must love the cheese!" you kinda sorta feel obligated to seek some out. Which I will next time I'm near a ravishing cheese counter. He then grabbed my hand and just dragged me up and down the various aisles of cheese, blathering, which, in a dream, leads one to tune out and end up in a loft apartment making Chinese dumplings and oysters on the half shell with Anne Hathaway who had hair like the daughter in the first season of 24--all wavy and weird and way too blonde. We then served this odd combination to a group of modern-day hippies (a la Adrian Grenier, ugh). I was actually a bit relieved when the alarm went off.

So yeah. Cheese. I've got a Cambozola in the fridge that seemed like a good idea at the time but I now find myself intimidated by it. I don't know why but it's just looking rather unappealing to me right now. It's wrapped in its original packaging but I'm not quite sure when I'll bust it out. Michael Chiarello has mad Napa love for it so maybe I should just consult one of his many tomes and see if he can show me the way.

What have I been up to this week? Made Rachel's Broccoli Soup, her White Soda Bread, and Chicken Kiev last weekend and am very, very pleased with the results. The soup has lasted well this week and I can honestly say that it didn't suffer for lack of cream. The soda bread didn't last as long as the other bread recipes, probably because it had neither butter nor egg in it, which lend additional moisture and keep the scones fresh for several days. The Kiev was easy and not nearly as labor-intensive as I had feared; leftovers, however, I didn't enjoy nearly as much. I'm a big fan of cold fried chicken but the butter/herb combo just didn't taste right as leftovers. But it was smashing first time around with a massive side of fries. With a mess of homemade ketchup for dipping.

I think I'll read Macbeth tonight to see how that tickles the subsconscious. :-)

1 comment:

Bridget said...

Wow that is some dream! In its strangeness, as weird as the one I had where we had a dinner party and the guest list was you and Poor Jerry, Jimmy Carter, Donovan McNabb, and Doughboy ...