Cooking Weekend
It was a whole weekend of cooking food.
I got paid for it Friday as it was an impromptu catering gig. My brother put me up for it. Five days before, "Hey, you got a menu? We're doing the party."
Me rolling over from bed onto the floor: "Oh crap."
Then yesterday, I made tomato sauce because I thought I wanted to eat a simple meal of spaghetti with red sauce. I made it sweet, for my purposes only. After staring at the goddamn pot and lambasting myself for carelessly adding too much water, my sauce finally came to a close after a whopping 1 1/2 hours of simmering. I was ready to throw that thing in the trash but it came out fine...so I saved it. I had no more appetite for my sweet spaghetti with fresh tomato sauce.
I went to bed and dreamed about fresh gnocchi. When I dream, the next day I make. I made fresh gnocchi for dinner. I figured I could use that tomato sauce to good use. So I got to work and steamed the potatoes. Then I ground it, mixed it with flour, dill (my fave), and some eggs and got those little tubes out. I dropped it in a pot of boiling water and prayed to the Almighty that the dough was right and that thing would rise. And it rose.
I swear I stared at that pot for too long. I took it out and pan-seared it in butter. And then splashed my tomato sauce on top.
First batch went to my brother. Second batch to my grandmother and third batch to me.
My brother took out the leftover braised short ribs I told him to order at La Regalade and brought out the 2006 Sancerre that was too strong for the raclette on New Year's Eve.
We wolfed that thing so fast that by the time I was rubbing my stomach, I remembered I forgot to take a picture.
Oh dear.
I got paid for it Friday as it was an impromptu catering gig. My brother put me up for it. Five days before, "Hey, you got a menu? We're doing the party."
Me rolling over from bed onto the floor: "Oh crap."
Then yesterday, I made tomato sauce because I thought I wanted to eat a simple meal of spaghetti with red sauce. I made it sweet, for my purposes only. After staring at the goddamn pot and lambasting myself for carelessly adding too much water, my sauce finally came to a close after a whopping 1 1/2 hours of simmering. I was ready to throw that thing in the trash but it came out fine...so I saved it. I had no more appetite for my sweet spaghetti with fresh tomato sauce.
I went to bed and dreamed about fresh gnocchi. When I dream, the next day I make. I made fresh gnocchi for dinner. I figured I could use that tomato sauce to good use. So I got to work and steamed the potatoes. Then I ground it, mixed it with flour, dill (my fave), and some eggs and got those little tubes out. I dropped it in a pot of boiling water and prayed to the Almighty that the dough was right and that thing would rise. And it rose.
I swear I stared at that pot for too long. I took it out and pan-seared it in butter. And then splashed my tomato sauce on top.
First batch went to my brother. Second batch to my grandmother and third batch to me.
My brother took out the leftover braised short ribs I told him to order at La Regalade and brought out the 2006 Sancerre that was too strong for the raclette on New Year's Eve.
We wolfed that thing so fast that by the time I was rubbing my stomach, I remembered I forgot to take a picture.
Oh dear.