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Rostinciana with grilled peppers in the style of the butcher" mica asshole "

First of all need a good fireman. In this case it is called Chicco, as reassuring, despite the devilish look. Then comes the Tuscany. Not Liguria, Campania or Lombardy. Tuscany! If not Rostinciana that can never be?
This is the dish of the day, prepared in the garden of the residence in which four friends, Capalbio. For the uninitiated, the Rostinciana is what in many other regions simply call pork ribs. But what counts, at least, that the butcher on duty told us, is the sauce with which they are sprinkled with pork ribs. A mix of herbs and pepper, making these smelling crisp and juicy pieces of pork.
The butcher, a burly type with a single gesture that was moving behind the bench his son and his wife, he had discharged a colorful phrase: "You will see tonight say ... Mica asshole that guy! I'm almost envious that I have sold the meat. "

not approach the plate with knife and fork. Better to acquire a large amount of disposable napkins, then use your hands.

To enrich the dish , not to lighten it, we cooked on the grill also good peppers. Then, by grouping Rostinciana and peppers in a single container, we added salt and olive oil. Look no further.
Well, I mean. Great eaten. Tuscan red wine bought in a small cellar, Rostinciana lick your fingers and a grand finale to the sound of cheese.
Mica asshole that guy!

INGREDIENTS: Rostinciana (or pork ribs), fresh herbs to taste, salt and pepper, olive oil, peppers.

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Mafaldine with" pesto is not pesto and datterini

But there you understand something? I lost the thread. And I would not mind at all.
understand little of what happens around me makes everything a surprise, more or less pleasant, but unexpected. And so you can concentrate on the feelings of the moment. A look. A fragrance. A sentence. But even one beautiful word.
And, at the table, a fragrance, color, taste, or even the harmony of all this in a moment.
I just recently, I know. At the moment I can appreciate the reality of a pinch at a time. And the pesto
mother's fits perfectly with this state of mind. It is not done in a workmanlike manner. It is not a true pesto. It is made with basil right. Cut with a knife and left too much air, take that color that any follower of good food criticize harshly.
But I love it. Why is not what it seems. Why is it that you do not expect. Because it touches your palate from the first bite. Well, well, well. Let's talk about this simple dish, but, I swear you will love. First of all this fake
pesto. His mother trite, do not tamp. Lets rustic, with bits of basil (the garden of Dad) clearly visible, even with the basil with a knife or cut with one quick turn of the mixer. Do not worry if you oxidize a bit '. Garlic does not fail, even if just half clove. Then a good olive oil and Parmesan. Not the cheese. It would be too.
A raw basil sauce. A pesto is not pesto.
The flavor is intense. And for this datterini of tomatoes, sweet and succulent, they are the best combination with this pesto. Finally, the pasta. The
trofie, yes, they are perfect. But Mafaldine De Cecco (not working for them, but I love them) I seem to be the best for this recipe.
To complete the recipe you need: a balcony, a clear day, a warm breeze, a clear mind, a caress and maybe a sweet kiss behind the neck.
I'm not going to explain how to make this recipe. Follow your feelings and will be fine.

Ingredients: pasta (Mafaldine), rustic sauce with basil, olive oil, tomatoes datterini.

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Cous cous chicken curry, with dandelion, tomato confit and amnesia

not remember anything. I do not write for a month because I do not remember anything. There's just some flash in my memory, faces, voices utter nonsense, places seen somewhere.
This morning I found myself here in this house, which I think is mine. I'm not sure, even if some memory seems to resurface gradually. I hope I did not appropriate space to someone else. I would like to ask for help, but I do not trust anyone.

And I have a damn hungry ... Ah. Yes yes ... Cooking. I love it. But here there is little or nothing. The refrigerator is almost empty. Chicken, tomatoes and ... do you call this thing. One moment.
"Excuse her. Yes, you down the road! What is this? Ahhh, well."
So, I said. There is also the dandelion. Then the cous cous and curry Bengali. Oh, look. Even a large grapefruit. Instead, these eggs expired I do not do anything.
Good. It's hot. I get kind of cold, lukewarm at best.

First of all prepare the cous cous. How strange, I remember how. Little water with a little 'extra virgin olive oil and a pinch of salt. Bring to a boil, then add the cous cous. Stir and let stand a few minutes. Then add a little oil on the fire and shells with a fork for three minutes at most.

Now the tomatoes. After being chopped into pieces, pass it to the oven, sprinkled with a little 'sugar, for about an hour at 100 degrees. All that remains is to prepare the chicken. I cut it into strips, then bake it on high heat with a little 'extra virgin olive oil and a clove of garlic. A half-cooked (very short) I add a spoonful of curry and half a glass of grapefruit juice. Once dried, add the chopped dandelion leaves, salting all with two pinches of salt.
that remains is to assemble all the ingredients and, if desired, use a pastry rings to give it shape.
Good. Now that I have a full belly, I devote myself to research my identity.

Ingredients: chicken breasts, cous cous, red tomatoes, dandelion, grapefruit, olive oil, salt, garlic.