It gets good reviews. The bad reviews are stupid.
One so-so review complained about the Kindle version dropping a recipe that she wanted to try; pelmeni. What a shame. Now she is helpless without any other resources to compensate for her loss. Just gone. Forever. And it's such a shame there is no other place to turn to for help. If only someone would invent something that could fill the gap, if only there was something like those ancient libraries we keep hearing about, or perhaps some online version of that. Oh well. Maybe in our next life.
Pelmeni, pierogi, tortellini, ravioli, potstickers, Chinese dumplings, pffft, they're all the same things.
When I was seven years old I loved LOVED LOVED Chef Boiardee ravioli. I could eat a whole can of them not even cooked. I never did, but I could. I was sitting there eating them and thinking, oh man, these things are brilliant! What an invention. What a world. What a world. What a wonderful time to be alive.
Then I had a real ravioli and my mind expanded to embrace all of Italy. Truly. They are masters of the culinary universe. And then I tasted the Chef Boiardee ones again and thought, oh Jeeze, these things are crap. There outta be a law. Italy should sue us for defamation.
A fancy-pants restaurant very nearby here, just a short walk away, and attached to the Art Museum serves truffle egg yolk ravioli that is to LIVE for. And I mean it. It is the perfect balance of simple ingredients. Plus their outstanding bread. If only I could drink wine then it would be really perfect. And nobody ever serves Kool-Aid. Have you noticed that? I have to settle for iced tea or something carbonated. Hang on. I got pictures of that.
*rustles through photos*
Here they are.
I like these girls.
Step one: Dye your hair red.
Step two: Put on your little black dress for working with flour.
Step three: Call your twin to come over to do the same thing.
When I was seven years old I loved LOVED LOVED Chef Boiardee ravioli. I could eat a whole can of them not even cooked. I never did, but I could. I was sitting there eating them and thinking, oh man, these things are brilliant! What an invention. What a world. What a world. What a wonderful time to be alive.
Then I had a real ravioli and my mind expanded to embrace all of Italy. Truly. They are masters of the culinary universe. And then I tasted the Chef Boiardee ones again and thought, oh Jeeze, these things are crap. There outta be a law. Italy should sue us for defamation.
A fancy-pants restaurant very nearby here, just a short walk away, and attached to the Art Museum serves truffle egg yolk ravioli that is to LIVE for. And I mean it. It is the perfect balance of simple ingredients. Plus their outstanding bread. If only I could drink wine then it would be really perfect. And nobody ever serves Kool-Aid. Have you noticed that? I have to settle for iced tea or something carbonated. Hang on. I got pictures of that.
*rustles through photos*
Here they are.
I like these girls.
Step one: Dye your hair red.
Step two: Put on your little black dress for working with flour.
Step three: Call your twin to come over to do the same thing.
6 comments:
That egg ravioli looks insanely delish. With the world at my fingertips I must now motivate myself to look up how they do the eggs. Separated, with each yolk put in whole and raw? That would be insane.
Martha stands a synapse away, deborah, with no more than a click needed! Now that's insane! Dream it, see it done, and almost taste it!
https://www.marthastewart.com/1094891/raviolo-egg-yolk-truffle-butter
What's not to like about the girls? They remind me of a feminized version of What's Good About ChipA? Fresh, direct, engaged and interested.
Use small eggs.
And you'll notice they never market "Grade A Small Eggs"
But they do sell the smallest of eggs. So I discovered by buying the kind that come 36 to a package that you cannot open until you get home. They're perfect for this sort of thing.
And it is insanely good. The weird thing about that restaurant is, that's the least expensive thing on their menu. I expected it to be the most expensive, but it's not.
Thanks, Chip.
O. I. C. It's the size of the egg that reduces insanity.
This is the part that rang my bell: And it's such a shame there is no other place to turn to for help. If only someone would invent something that could fill the gap, if only there was something like those ancient libraries we keep hearing about, or perhaps some online version of that. Oh well. Maybe in our next life.
Which makes me wonder if the one who was going on here about looking up how to do the eggs, actually did so and discovered they are cooked in boiling water for two minutes, in addition to being sanely small?
Here's hoping the sister in law enjoys the new cookbook.
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