First, allow me to tell you that I am sick. It’s been chasing me all day, and after my workout I feel completely like shit. It’s probably mostly that I’m exhausted from a week of dodging culinary bullets at school and getting no sleep, but I think it’s also probably a virus on account of how much I wish I could throw up, and not only so I can be all Mary-Kate thin. It’s most likely Ebola. Or Hanta. If only I knew a doctor…Oh wait! I do! But when I tell him I’m sick with Ebola, he usually says “Po’ you!” and then pats my head. Which is darling, but not exactly racing for the cure. I need supportive care. A needle-free IV, perhaps. Otherwise known as a popsicle. Oh, and I’ll have none of that orange popsicle business. Go cherry or go home, is my motto. To cover my bases, I usually just say “red” when asked what flavor I want. That means I’ll get either strawberry, cherry, or fruit punch, all of which are leaps and bounds beyond friggin’ orange. Also, I only like expensive popsicles. The cheap ones you can suck on the end to get some juice out, and then it’s all white and flavorless in that spot, like it’s been attacked by a popsicle-vampire. At that point it’s useless. So maybe some Dreyers All-Fruit, or whatever they’re called.
Thank GOD last night’s dinner was had before I was stricken down in my prime. I got the hook up on some black truffles. I already had some white truffle oil. I don’t know if it’s a culinary sin or not, but I made a risotto with prosciutto, onions, peas, parmeggiana and white truffle oil. Then I cooled it, formed it into balls, and deep fried the balls to a golden crisp.
I have a COMPLETELY sluttish laziness re: marinara. It’s a trick I learned when I was grilling pizzas and didn’t have any sauce, nor the amount of sobriety required to create a sauce out of a series of ingredients. What I DID have was a can of good-quality diced tomatoes with basil, oregano and garlic. I opened it, put it in the blender with a good pinch of salt, and then used it. And it was SO good. Perfect. I have used it for many pizzas since, and for any marinara dippin’ sauce I need in situations of mozzarella sticks, garlic bread, whatever. I swear on it. You should try it. Anyway, I put the arancini (fried risotto balls) on a little puddle of cheater-sauce and shaved some black truffle over the top.
I will say this: after eating deep-fried white truffle risotto with “marinara” and black truffle bits. After biting through the crisp exterior of the arancini to find rich and creamy spiked with bits of awesome and the earthy sex-fest of truffles. Well, much like black, I don’t think I can go back.
So let’s just say it’s okay to use black and white truffles together. We’ll call it “tuxedo” and make people pay a lot of money for it. Because we run with gangs and do what we want, right?
Okay, I’m going to go back to the couch and commence dying. I hope you’re all appropriately awed by the tuxedo concept, as well as sympathetic and making arrangements to come to Colorado for my funeral. I mean, clearly I can’t be buried in Texas. I have worked too hard to be nice to homeless people and kittens to spend eternity in hell.