Sunday, August 15, 2010

green beans, prosciutto



Haricots vertes by another name when you're being charged 3X as much. Whatev. Here with prosciutto, but not authentic prosciutto otherwise that too would be 3X as expensive. Bacon is as good on any day. There was a couple there at the counter with me at the same time. When I ordered the prosciutto the male made a remark to the female about the availability there of prosciutto. This created an opening for my endless propensity to engage. I said I doubted it was the real deal, although it did have an Italian flag on the label. "Well, that seals it then." Which they found hysterically funny for some reason still unknown to me. It's a mystery.

Green beans steamed in a basket for a few minutes. Dunked in ice water to arrest the chlorophyl at its greeniest green, + crimini mushrooms fried, + a single scallion sliced on a severe diagonal and heated with the mushrooms along with the prosciutto. Combined with a one roughly diced red tomato. Drizzled with olive oil, topped with butter, dotted with aged balsamic. In short, lovingly, carefully, tenderly prepared as if for someone I love, which is me, which I do.

Now that olive oil/butter/aged balsamic sinks to the plate eventually and I swear it is the most irresistible dressing ever conceived by mankind. It was sopped up breadlessly  to the every last streak with the cold leftover flatiron pieces, which are still very good these three days after cooking. A small amount remains wrapped up in plastic in the fridge that will most likely be nibbled by swooping passes in bits and bites until finally the last molecule is consumed right down to the ultimate atom.  Which is the way God intended.

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