Many readers have asked why I refer to my husband as "The Prince" and not "The Count" since I blog as "The Countess" (a college nickname-- I am not a real Countess, at least outside of my own mind). Well, there IS a Count, who in fact came into my life well before The Prince! The Count is a dear friend from college, and he and I are known to be utterly ridiculous together. He spent Christmas with my family this year, over which a number of joint-goals were set (become more pious, be even more hilarious, etc). I asked The Count to write a guest post, and his email back telling me why he was late in getting me his post was funny enough to be a post itself...
One of our New Year's resolutions being, "more tiny hats," I attempted something new last night. I decided to recreate your weeknight bolognese feast. The answer to Ina's question, "How easy is that?" is a resounding: Not as easy as I had hoped. My culinary prowess does not extend far past crossing things off the chef's menu and yelling at staff but, you made it look so easy I just thought it would be a breeze. I understand that for a normal person this would not have been difficult AT ALL. The story begins with a trip to the actual market for provisions. Keep in mind, after a long day on the golf course the last thing I wanted to do was go to a market where I had to deal with the great unwashed. With a list. Fourteen ingredients managed to take me almost forty-five minutes to find. Never again with that place. Not to mention the whole spice section unnerved me as much as the queue at checkout. It has always been my understanding that at the checkout you no longer have to make any decisions. How wrong I was.
"Paper or plastic?"
Paper or plastic what exactly?
"Do you have freshfields card?"
No, I have a Visa.
No, thank you.
"Swipe your card."
I most certainly will not.
What a mess, I am glad to have made it out alive. Homeward bound.
Immediately upon arrival, I emptied the contents of the bags and set to work. This is when the whole operation fell apart. I picked up cilantro instead of oregano, and ground red pepper instead of red pepper flakes. Combine this with confusing tea spoon with table spoon, and not wearing my glasses...you see where this is going. The comical part is I just made the executive decision to press on with what I had. It could not possibly be that much different, right? Wrong. I combined everything, and it looked fantastic. It was then time for the taste test. Horrible. Though the orecchiette (aka tiny hats) were cooked to perfection, basically the whole thing tasted like flaming hot soap that had been soaking in wine and basil and covered with Parmesan. Whatever. I then had to order pizza and down a litre of vod, which is really what I wanted anyway.
What do you think, should he be a regular contributor?