Friday, May 22, 2009
NO you cannot has sopressata.
After three days of HoneyBunches of Oats with Almonds (which doesn't even have that funny of a box [except that their origin story sort of suggests that it took one man ten years to figure out how to combine other post cereals into one]), directly relating to Mister Smelly, now formally known as Franklinbutt Ferdinand Booger Bullinsky, ("Ballz!" for short), I finally had time to make Italian Breakfast.
The first step was trying to think of an appropriate sauce for the now-not-quite-so-awesomely-fresh porcini tortellini (thanks a lot, Ballz!). I was going to make some sort of shallot cream sauce with fresh oregano (man, F*CK dried oregano!) and thyme, when I remembered that I had made some homemade pesto a couple weeks ago, which I hadn't used yet. It passed the smell test and the taste test! Awesome. Boil the water, boil the pasta, slice some sweet sopressata, make a smoothie, make some iced tea, stir it all up, and voila (how do you say voila in italian?) breakfast is served.
How Was It?
Pretty good! The pesto layered a nice herby freshness on top of the earthy mushrooms, and the sausage was delicious. The smoothie (which I don't remember [look, I'm a little behind on this thing, thanks to you-know-who)] was probably pretty good. The tea: Hmmm. The tea.
The story of the tea.
The tea. It should have been really good. I had a little Second Flush Darjeeling from Margaret's Hope, a very reputable biodynamic estate, which I had picked up at that same shop in Lyon. I decided to make a sun tea (the only way to make iced tea), figuring it would draw the apricot and floral notes. So I put a couple ounces in a plastic jug, added some cold water and set it in the sun while the water boiled. Then I got all stressey-pants again (seriously, it was crazy with this dog, he was so smelly that after I washed him my drunk roommate tooka naked shower with him and washed him again with laundry detergent, and he still kinda smelled! Plus noone was coming forward for him except the douchiest of craigslist creeps, he and Princess R*** Nopants would NOT stop wrassling on the floor, seriously I could not get a moment of peace) and let it sit for a little too long. Not quite ruined, but it got all tannic and bitter. Crap. Oh, and for some reason all I had was Wonderbread, which was not quite the perfect complement to the meal, but wasn't bad with some authentic super spicy Dijon (Lyon) slathered on it.