I ate ALL of last night's French Friday dinner by myself! All. Of. It. This recipe was like, I don't know, funnel cakes and caramel corn on top of pasta. (I swear to god, this stuff smelled like caramel corn while it cooked.) And. . . it was that good. If you're into carnival foods. . . and I totally am (but you can leave the clowns at home)! Now, could I have been so down and out over the state of affairs for dogs here in Missouri last night that my appetite for anything remotely sounding and smelling like runway food would win me over? Certainly. And now amid today's crisis in Japan, could I be AS down and out again? Absolutely. So I very much could have this tonight, again. . . along side a nice slice of pizza (which is what is always on the menu on Friday night).
Hubby was in New York this week. Last night was dinner for one. After he came home this afternoon (and after I had a meltdown over yesterday's dog legislation news, swearing we will NOT spend our retirement years/dollars here--shame on Missouri)--I then told him about my indulgence of figs, raisins, hazelnuts and almonds--smothered and wooshed around in heavenly melty-vegan margerine, then orange zest, then topped with vegan parm and some chopped scallion declaring: It. Was. Yum! He replied: Oh, you had chick food. Um, okay. . . noooo it was French Fridays, remember? Glad you're home. . . darling!
I've been married to my husband long enough now (almost fifteen years. . . almost) to know that if it even remotely resembles a "fruit" and I try to be sly and fit into a savory dish, he, like a bloodhound, will sniff, turn the plate, lift things up with his fork, turn to me and say, "What's in this?" (It sends shudders through my spine to think of it.) And since I have a horrible poker face, he busts me every time. Never forgetting the one and only time I made Gado-Gado. Oh, the gado-gado moment was so awful. I can't even begin to re-live it. Let's just say, Indonesian and/or Carribean-like fruity or sweet foods as dinners: not in this house. And for true moments of marriage testing, I have now sworn off eggplant. Unless I am darn sure the stuff has literally disappeared in said dish--for me, it will have to remain a pretty little purple thing.
The dish is simple. Very pedestrian in its design. Very good for the soul. Very good cold. I am sure of this because as I could not stop eating it, the pan of it went cold during helpings. . . but I ate it anyway. I am so glad I sat and had my pity party with this dish--it fed my need for comfort and healing. I will be making this again and again. The other FFwD dishes can be found here.