In the interest of being even-handed, I shall now glorify a food product that Kim's better half will not touch: pesto.
Jantje, it must be said, has a very good reason. Pinenuts send him into anaphylactic shock.
But man oh man, that was some crazy-good p***o down the street at that place-with-a-famous-chef-that-I've-mentioned-before. I saw it on the menu posted outside, so JP and I went in and snagged a barside two-top. First, we shared a salad that sang of spring: shaved ribbons of asparagus; thin radish coins; snips of sorrel and its flowers; and shaved over all, bottarga, a dried fish roe sort of thing that added a nice brininess to the mix.
My dish, though, was heavenly. The pasta is called strozzaprete, and it's made in-house; little twists of dough that hold sauce in their crevices. Sauce made, in this case, with broccoli rabe, olive oil, and pine nuts...maybe some other things, I didn't ask because my mouth was full. And to gild the lily, fresh dabs of ricotta. It's a dreamy dish, so if you're not Jantje or Kimster (who abstains so as to avoid the Kiss of Death), figure it out and get on down there...before the menu changes.
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And I thought it was going to be about goat cheese. Another thing he doesn't like, but not due to anything physical except for wacky taste buds.
ReplyDeleteIncanto?
ReplyDeleteSounds divine. I love strozzaprete--I believe it means strangle the priest. Um, happy easter.
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