Food without frontiers
I have been involved in a number of conversations regarding one of my previous articles about questionable ingredients on pizza.
‘A number’ equal to one. It doesn't matter.
You guys know I like to keep it real here. This is not a pretentious blog, this is a friendly blog written keeping my real social network in mind.
Anyway, it’s always extremely entertaining coming across friends who tell me, almost apologetically, that they do enjoy pineapple on their pizza.
Guys, it’s fine. As long as you don’t force me to eat that, we’re cool. You do you!
If only all debates were so easy.
Well, funnily enough, after my peroration about Italians not being genuinely mad at food, and not being snob at all unless openly attacked by wrong Italian food, I was kindly reminded by the boyfriend that I do have a strong opinion even when it comes to forks and spoons.
Like all cutlery is the same!
Could you imagine eating soup with a perfectly round spoon? That’s a highway to spill-land!
Not to mention the whole ‘burning the corners of my mouth’ issue.
Spoons gotta be oval, and forks can’t be flat. They need some curves for optimal forking.
We were talking about elitism and cutlery while eating pasta with Bolognese sauce, following my substitution of a fork for another, when I took a nacho.
Yes, in this particular situation there was an open bag of plain nachos laying on the table.
Don’t dwell on that. The boyfriend had to try something I openly chose to ignore.
Instead I took a nacho and used it to scoop up the leftover sauce in my plate.
In my head it just made sense, you would do that with bread, and nachos are made for chilli con carne.
Which is basically Spanish Bolognese sauce. Which is English for Italian ragu’. Which is a version of the French ragout. And it goes on and on…
Watching me do the ‘scarpetta’ with a nacho, his first thought was: you’re onto something!
Yeah, darn right I am!
New million dollar business idea! Hold on people, here it comes!
A restaurant, where above the door everyone could read: ‘All borders abandon ye who enter here.’
All dishes, carefully assembled to overcome the differences between countries. Take a duck and trust the French to make something ridiculously expensive and tiny out of it. Take a pork and trust the Italians to feed a village and a half. Take a cow and trust the English to ruin it.
Come to our restaurant and use a nacho to scoop ragu’, ask for flatbread and be merry, vodka goes with everything, and portions are plenty.
It’s called: Pastard.
Image: via
‘A number’ equal to one. It doesn't matter.
You guys know I like to keep it real here. This is not a pretentious blog, this is a friendly blog written keeping my real social network in mind.
Anyway, it’s always extremely entertaining coming across friends who tell me, almost apologetically, that they do enjoy pineapple on their pizza.
Guys, it’s fine. As long as you don’t force me to eat that, we’re cool. You do you!
If only all debates were so easy.
Well, funnily enough, after my peroration about Italians not being genuinely mad at food, and not being snob at all unless openly attacked by wrong Italian food, I was kindly reminded by the boyfriend that I do have a strong opinion even when it comes to forks and spoons.
Like all cutlery is the same!
Could you imagine eating soup with a perfectly round spoon? That’s a highway to spill-land!
Not to mention the whole ‘burning the corners of my mouth’ issue.
Spoons gotta be oval, and forks can’t be flat. They need some curves for optimal forking.
We were talking about elitism and cutlery while eating pasta with Bolognese sauce, following my substitution of a fork for another, when I took a nacho.
Yes, in this particular situation there was an open bag of plain nachos laying on the table.
Don’t dwell on that. The boyfriend had to try something I openly chose to ignore.
Instead I took a nacho and used it to scoop up the leftover sauce in my plate.
In my head it just made sense, you would do that with bread, and nachos are made for chilli con carne.
Which is basically Spanish Bolognese sauce. Which is English for Italian ragu’. Which is a version of the French ragout. And it goes on and on…
Watching me do the ‘scarpetta’ with a nacho, his first thought was: you’re onto something!
Yeah, darn right I am!
New million dollar business idea! Hold on people, here it comes!
A restaurant, where above the door everyone could read: ‘All borders abandon ye who enter here.’
All dishes, carefully assembled to overcome the differences between countries. Take a duck and trust the French to make something ridiculously expensive and tiny out of it. Take a pork and trust the Italians to feed a village and a half. Take a cow and trust the English to ruin it.
Come to our restaurant and use a nacho to scoop ragu’, ask for flatbread and be merry, vodka goes with everything, and portions are plenty.
It’s called: Pastard.
Image: via
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