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Ratios
I can't even get a handle on this racing train of thoughts.
I just made raviolis. There's an Italian deli that makes homemade pasta right down the street, on the corner of 22nd and Valencia. Lucca, you might have heard of it. It completely reminds me of the Italian deli in Buenos Aires that was also half a block from my apartment. They made homemade raviolis too. I believe that joint was called Quiero Mas.
Tangent #1: There was a very large plaster man in Quiero Mas holding out a tray of Italian spaghetti and meat-a-balls. Many times I would be walking home in the late hours of the night/early hours of the morning, probably a couple of bottles of wine deep, and was scared out of my mind when I saw the weird silhouette lurking by the deli's door. I now wish I had taken a picture of that bizarre Italiano sculpture, I think it really would've warmed my heart tonight. My lack of picture evidence has led me to the conclusion that I need to start bringing a camera with me everywhere. And I should start taking pictures of everything. I have been surrounded by tremendously talented photographers (i.e. Kristopher, Jordan, & co.) recently who have so many neat pictures of random (as well as usual) things. Although I cannot rank myself with the likes of those two, it seems like most pictures I have are in bars... How interesting are bars? Unless you're talking about Latin America Club.... they do have a massive cut-out of a hamster. That's interesting to look at.
Back to Argentina. My host family had a very reliable rotation of dinners. Rose and I used to place bets on what we'd be eating for dinner that night. Do you think we'll get vegetable soup tonight? I wonder when empanadas are back on rotation. Maybe we'll get that pizza with hard boiled egg on it.
Tangent #2: One of the things I miss most in life (other than Rose herself) is hearing Rose pleasantly make fun of that pizza. Of course there's crumbled hard boiled egg on a pizza... What?! She also made fun of the vegetable soup. It was essentially water, carrots, celery and rice, super bland and super boring. But it was our non-domestic upper-crust Argentine host-mom's specialty and she was proud as a peacock about it.
Our favorite dinner was definitely the empanadas. The caprese especially, which had basil, mozzarella and tomatoes. Because we knew every time we got the god damn raviolis they would be oober watery and there wouldn't be enough tomato sauce. Our host mom would use like a tablespoon of tomato sauce for four people's raviolis. Rose and I would always look at each other from across the table and silently communicate our utter disdain for the watery flippin' raviolis with the most fucked up noodle to sauce ratio. One time our host mom went out of town and our host dad was in charge of dinner. He made raviolis and he put so much freaking tomato sauce on there I almost felt like I was drowning. He clearly was equally frustrated with his wife's refusal to adequately sauce that shit.
Tangent #3: Our host parents really had the most passive aggressive hilarious relationship. Fortunately they were also uniquely cute and loved each other. After 30+ years, or however many they've been married for, I suppose some passive aggression is in order. Haha, especially when it was so entertaining.
So on a separate tangent, or Tangent #4, I think well thought-out ratios make a good cook. I am huge on ratios. There are several reasons why I can't eat at Arby's - mainly that it's disgusting - but a huge one is their meat to other ingredients ratio. There are like four solid inches of meat in their sandwiches. WHY?! That is so much meat. Generally American sandwiches have too much meat. I like there to be equal thickness of each meat, cheese, and veggies, not have the thickness of meat equal the thickness of everything else combined. Hello, veggie sandwiches! That way I don't even have to deal with the obscene meat stack. In addition to sandwich ingredient ratios, another important one is the lime to avocado ratio in guacamole. 1:1, people, one to one. If you suck at cooking, you might want to rethink your ratios. I have mine down and I get high-fived about it all the time.
I just made raviolis. There's an Italian deli that makes homemade pasta right down the street, on the corner of 22nd and Valencia. Lucca, you might have heard of it. It completely reminds me of the Italian deli in Buenos Aires that was also half a block from my apartment. They made homemade raviolis too. I believe that joint was called Quiero Mas.
Tangent #1: There was a very large plaster man in Quiero Mas holding out a tray of Italian spaghetti and meat-a-balls. Many times I would be walking home in the late hours of the night/early hours of the morning, probably a couple of bottles of wine deep, and was scared out of my mind when I saw the weird silhouette lurking by the deli's door. I now wish I had taken a picture of that bizarre Italiano sculpture, I think it really would've warmed my heart tonight. My lack of picture evidence has led me to the conclusion that I need to start bringing a camera with me everywhere. And I should start taking pictures of everything. I have been surrounded by tremendously talented photographers (i.e. Kristopher, Jordan, & co.) recently who have so many neat pictures of random (as well as usual) things. Although I cannot rank myself with the likes of those two, it seems like most pictures I have are in bars... How interesting are bars? Unless you're talking about Latin America Club.... they do have a massive cut-out of a hamster. That's interesting to look at.
Back to Argentina. My host family had a very reliable rotation of dinners. Rose and I used to place bets on what we'd be eating for dinner that night. Do you think we'll get vegetable soup tonight? I wonder when empanadas are back on rotation. Maybe we'll get that pizza with hard boiled egg on it.
Tangent #2: One of the things I miss most in life (other than Rose herself) is hearing Rose pleasantly make fun of that pizza. Of course there's crumbled hard boiled egg on a pizza... What?! She also made fun of the vegetable soup. It was essentially water, carrots, celery and rice, super bland and super boring. But it was our non-domestic upper-crust Argentine host-mom's specialty and she was proud as a peacock about it.
Our favorite dinner was definitely the empanadas. The caprese especially, which had basil, mozzarella and tomatoes. Because we knew every time we got the god damn raviolis they would be oober watery and there wouldn't be enough tomato sauce. Our host mom would use like a tablespoon of tomato sauce for four people's raviolis. Rose and I would always look at each other from across the table and silently communicate our utter disdain for the watery flippin' raviolis with the most fucked up noodle to sauce ratio. One time our host mom went out of town and our host dad was in charge of dinner. He made raviolis and he put so much freaking tomato sauce on there I almost felt like I was drowning. He clearly was equally frustrated with his wife's refusal to adequately sauce that shit.
Tangent #3: Our host parents really had the most passive aggressive hilarious relationship. Fortunately they were also uniquely cute and loved each other. After 30+ years, or however many they've been married for, I suppose some passive aggression is in order. Haha, especially when it was so entertaining.
So on a separate tangent, or Tangent #4, I think well thought-out ratios make a good cook. I am huge on ratios. There are several reasons why I can't eat at Arby's - mainly that it's disgusting - but a huge one is their meat to other ingredients ratio. There are like four solid inches of meat in their sandwiches. WHY?! That is so much meat. Generally American sandwiches have too much meat. I like there to be equal thickness of each meat, cheese, and veggies, not have the thickness of meat equal the thickness of everything else combined. Hello, veggie sandwiches! That way I don't even have to deal with the obscene meat stack. In addition to sandwich ingredient ratios, another important one is the lime to avocado ratio in guacamole. 1:1, people, one to one. If you suck at cooking, you might want to rethink your ratios. I have mine down and I get high-fived about it all the time.