|this is neither tuscan kale nor hmong rapini look-alike but some kind of |
super bok choy type foodstuff....
Oh I don't mean every meal! That would leave no room for the spoon-size shredded wheat and raisins or single poached egg on toast for breakfast, nor the salad of 99-cent store spring mix and shaved carrots for lunch, nor the tonnage of dried sweetened mango, roasted almonds, Ak-Mak crackers, French Line plain yogurt, cheese and coffee that sustain me for the rest of the day.
I just mean four or five meals a week, if I get to the Silver Lake Farmer's Market on Saturday, that is, where I purchase a couple of bunches of greens: maybe that Hmong rapini-lookalike with yellow flowers ($1), maybe a Tuscan kale ($1.50). And then Monday (and Wednesday or Thursday) afternoon around 2, after I have feverishly written all morning, working myself into a state of catatonic excitement and/or despair, I proceed as follows--in a way you may or may not be moved to get on board with, too.
First you put on the water for the pasta and cut the greens, just three slashes with a big knife and throw them into a frying pan in which you've heated a generous amount of hot olive oil and saute them over fairly high heat till they start to almost burn a bit. Then you throw on a third or so of a blue, yellow, and white Talavera coffee cup of water and put your housemate's screen thing over the top cause it'll splatter. Meanwhile you mince up a couple of cloves of garlic and three or four anchovies. Now if you're one of those people who when you hear the word "anchovy," respond ECCCHHHH, I will still be your friend, but I really don't know what to say other than that I'll pray for you.
Then you throw in a third of a package or so of linguine or fettucine or penne and, after the water's all absorbed from the saute pan, shove the greens up aside against the far side, heat an additional small puddle of olive oil and saute the garlic and anchovies, mashing up the latter. (You can add some dried hot red pepper here as well. This is from one of the Chez Panisse cookbooks and I think their recipe incorporates red wine vinegar, too, but I don't).
Drain the pasta, put a giant serving in a big bowl, add a little butter, heap on some greens, salt, ground pepper, if you're feeling flush, which I, for one, have definitely not as of late, grate over some real Parmigiana and if not, sprinkle over some of the vastly inferior but not entirely grotesque shaved Parm or Parmagiana-Romano mixture from Trader Joe's, and Bob's your uncle.
Afterward, I like to take a nice long walk around the hilly streets of Silver Lake, pondering God's infinite bounty and the unsolvable problems of life, heart, and writing that cropped up that day.
In this way, I keep my food bill down to approximately $23.87 a week, leaving lots of spare change for the Sunset Boulevard panhandlers, drunks and psychotics who brighten my existence.
|You can buy the big can at Jon's (Armenian market) for 6.99!|