I came in from work yesterday, tired as hell, and checked the fridge to find nothing but the contents of this recipe. I hate recipes, myself. If you want to savour a dish, someone else should be cooking it. Therein lies the magic of cuisine. It's like Art, in a way. However, to just illustrate how out-of-the-blue I can be - oh brother - here's a little somethin' that turned out quite well:



Initiate kitchen Airlock

Place about 1.5 litres of water and two tablespoons of salt in a saucepan and leave to boil on a stove. I just use a kettle to save gas. Next, find a chopping board and get medieval on the 2 onions, dicing them into fine little cubes. Blood everywhere? Good. Now do the same with the 4 Aubergines. Only this time, sing If I were a rich man from Fiddler on the Roof while doing it. When you've finally attained that quaint pastoral Anatevka feeling, place 5 table spoons of olive oil in a frying pan and heat for about 45 seconds. Pour in the aubergines and onions followed by a tablespoon of salt and stir fry to the self-induced sounds of Tradition, again, from Fiddler on the Roof.

Keep at it for about 7-8 minutes. By now, your water ought to have boiled. If not, you have merely placed a pan full of water on the stove without lighting it. Beat self over head with nearest kitchen utensil. Place the pasta in the pan and cook for the alleged 6 or 7 minutes for that hardcore Al Dente effect. But if you really like to cook your food and don't have dental insurance, allow it to boil for the much more favourable 12 minutes or so.

Interjection: You can check to see if pasta is cooked by carefully picking out a piece sticking out from just above
the churning water, and shaking it like mad between your cupped hands, and then flinging it in your mouth.

Put the pasta on a sieve and rinse under the tap. Put aside for the water to filter down and out. Open up that ever elusive jar of pomegranate juice and empty 7 tablespoons of the stuff into the frying pan and stir with a spoon of your choice. (why do they always tell you, wooden spoon? What kinda fuckin' difference can it possibly make?!?!).

Put the pasta back in the saucepan, unless of course the sieve turned over and spilt the contents into the yucky sink. If this is what has happened, proceed to your parent's house and weep about how you're just bloody useless and you can't do anything right, let alone a dumbass dish from E2

Mix the stuff you stir fried in the frying pan into the pasta, et voila!

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.