Food <i>slays</i> me sometimes.
You ever notice how, you're just walking along, you come home from work, lame dogs want to be walked, blah, blah, and then you sit down to eat, and WHOOMF. The world just stops for a second, and the camera rotates around 360 degrees to highlight your bewilderment, and possibly green Matrix sigils start bleeding from the corners of the room, just to highlight that you're <i>on</i> to something.
<i>It's so fucking good.</i>
And your brain stops for a bit, because this is a culinary equivalent of <i>a sudden punch in the face when discussing the weather at the watercooler</i>. But in a good way.
It's SO out of proportion to what you expected, to the average intensity of experience of a Monday night. And your language centers blank out, and meanwhile, the inner gremlin of your mind calls up internal tech support and asks "Help. What is going on here?" and tech support says "Uh.. we have no idea. Just reboot and give it 20 minutes."
So last night was like that. And I'm still not quite sure how to properly convey to you how good that pasta was.
It involved.. well, pasta. That's the easy bit. But also these /perfect/ slices of portobello mushrooms in Marsala wine sauce (with some vanilla balsamic vinegar, I think).
ALSO braised beef. In PUMPKIN BEER. Like.. I'm not sure you understand. Our pumpkin beer is really good BY ITSELF. And then there was this beef braised in it, in the oven, for hours.
And the pasta, and the beef, and the mushrooms, and the sauce, all combined into something utterly ridiculously good. And I was hungry, of course, sure. But.. yeah. Out of proportion.
The Sarmatian Protopope
his desires inscrutable but surely base
- Minor dinner revelations