You have ten seconds. This is the opening line of a famous novel. What is the title? And who wrote it?
Among other public buildings in a certain town, which for many reasons it will be prudent to refrain from mentioning, and to which I will assign no fictitious name, there is one anciently common to most towns, great or small — to wit, a workhouse and in this workhouse was born, on a day and date which I need not trouble myself to repeat, inasmuch as it can be of no possible consequence to the reader, in this stage of the business at all events, the item of mortality whose name is prefixed to the head of this chapter.
That is one of my favorite games -- guessing the first lines of popular books. Of course, the game works best with titles that a person reasonably well-read would know. I call it, oddly enough, "First Line."
That long sentence at the start of this essay is a perfect example. Dickens is always a good subject because he folds in enough clues in his opening sentence that we not only know where we are, but where we are going. In this case, following the life of Oliver Twist.
But it was not the Dickens novel that came to mind yesterday afternoon while I was cooking my supper, but the rather dreadful musical adaptation: Oliver!. The musical introduces us to what will be the sympathetic character of Nancy, forced by circumstances to be a pickpocket, thief, and resident of the far verges of society, in the chirpy number "It's a Fine Life."*
Even at its 1968 opening, lines from that song like "Though you sometimes do come by/ The occasional black eye/ You can always cover one/ 'Til he blacks the other one/ But you don't dare cry" were just as grimace-grabbing then as they are now.
That was not the lyric that jumped to mind, though, yesterday. It was "Small pleasures, small pleasures/ Who would deny us these?"
Being forced to live life as dictated by the whims of the state (or, at least, to a degree), I have been surprised how little things in life can immediately brighten my day. That is one of those realizations that is concurrently enlightening -- and just a bit sad.
Yesterday, it was the discovery of some cheese tortellini and a package of arugula at Hawaii. Both are rare finds here.
Originally, I did not put either one in my basket. But, my mind started assembling possibilities. I had purchased a large container of small heirloom tomatoes last Saturday when I went to Sam's Club in Manzanillo. They were not going to last much longer.
The discovery of a carton of heavy cream clinched the deal. The cream, tortellini, and arugula were going home with me to be combined with some ground pork I had purchased the day before and had turned into a spicy Italian sausage.
Balancing the tastes of the sauce and the texture of tortellini is always a trick. The sausage was already spiced. What I needed was something to balance the sweetness of the cream and tomatoes. A couple of serranos seemed to be the perfect choice -- along with the bitterness of the arugula.
So, into the olive-oiled pan went the sausage, then the onion and serrano, and then the garlic. When the garlic became fragrant, I added the quartered heirloom tomatoes and let them warm through. Then, it was liquid time. Heavy cream and chicken stock.
When the liquid had blended, I added the tortellini and let it cook covered until the tortellini had been warmed and the liquid reduced. Next in was the arugula just long enough to wilt along with a healthy dose of oregano and thyme.
A quick taste was disappointing. The arugula and serranos had not balanced out the sweetness -- nor had the salt in the chicken stock.
The solution was a classic one. What works well in taming the sweet in pasta Alfredo should work in this dish. Nutmeg.
And it did. I grated about three-quarters of a nut into the sauce and let it meld. What had been a possibly-mediocre pasta dish was turned into a satisfying supper.
I usually do not like meals that duplicate ingredients in side dishes. But I needed to use what was left of the heirloom tomatoes and argula before they both went bad.
The obvious answer was a salad teamed with red onion, petite cucumber, kalamatas, pickled ginger, and a Spanish truffled-sheep cheese. Because the flavors were already strong enough, I dressed it only with a light touch of olive oil.
It may not have been as good as Enoteca Pinchiorri, but it certainly was far less expensive. And, best of all, it was my creation.
How can small pleasures be better than that?
That long sentence at the start of this essay is a perfect example. Dickens is always a good subject because he folds in enough clues in his opening sentence that we not only know where we are, but where we are going. In this case, following the life of Oliver Twist.
But it was not the Dickens novel that came to mind yesterday afternoon while I was cooking my supper, but the rather dreadful musical adaptation: Oliver!. The musical introduces us to what will be the sympathetic character of Nancy, forced by circumstances to be a pickpocket, thief, and resident of the far verges of society, in the chirpy number "It's a Fine Life."*
Even at its 1968 opening, lines from that song like "Though you sometimes do come by/ The occasional black eye/ You can always cover one/ 'Til he blacks the other one/ But you don't dare cry" were just as grimace-grabbing then as they are now.
That was not the lyric that jumped to mind, though, yesterday. It was "Small pleasures, small pleasures/ Who would deny us these?"
Being forced to live life as dictated by the whims of the state (or, at least, to a degree), I have been surprised how little things in life can immediately brighten my day. That is one of those realizations that is concurrently enlightening -- and just a bit sad.
Yesterday, it was the discovery of some cheese tortellini and a package of arugula at Hawaii. Both are rare finds here.
Originally, I did not put either one in my basket. But, my mind started assembling possibilities. I had purchased a large container of small heirloom tomatoes last Saturday when I went to Sam's Club in Manzanillo. They were not going to last much longer.
The discovery of a carton of heavy cream clinched the deal. The cream, tortellini, and arugula were going home with me to be combined with some ground pork I had purchased the day before and had turned into a spicy Italian sausage.
Balancing the tastes of the sauce and the texture of tortellini is always a trick. The sausage was already spiced. What I needed was something to balance the sweetness of the cream and tomatoes. A couple of serranos seemed to be the perfect choice -- along with the bitterness of the arugula.
So, into the olive-oiled pan went the sausage, then the onion and serrano, and then the garlic. When the garlic became fragrant, I added the quartered heirloom tomatoes and let them warm through. Then, it was liquid time. Heavy cream and chicken stock.
When the liquid had blended, I added the tortellini and let it cook covered until the tortellini had been warmed and the liquid reduced. Next in was the arugula just long enough to wilt along with a healthy dose of oregano and thyme.
A quick taste was disappointing. The arugula and serranos had not balanced out the sweetness -- nor had the salt in the chicken stock.
The solution was a classic one. What works well in taming the sweet in pasta Alfredo should work in this dish. Nutmeg.
And it did. I grated about three-quarters of a nut into the sauce and let it meld. What had been a possibly-mediocre pasta dish was turned into a satisfying supper.
I usually do not like meals that duplicate ingredients in side dishes. But I needed to use what was left of the heirloom tomatoes and argula before they both went bad.
The obvious answer was a salad teamed with red onion, petite cucumber, kalamatas, pickled ginger, and a Spanish truffled-sheep cheese. Because the flavors were already strong enough, I dressed it only with a light touch of olive oil.
It may not have been as good as Enoteca Pinchiorri, but it certainly was far less expensive. And, best of all, it was my creation.
How can small pleasures be better than that?
I need to give a tip of my sombrero to my friend and former work colleague. He recently posted a piece on Facebook about actresses who were born for their most-famous roles.
No comments:
Post a Comment