A magician, if you will.
This magician/ master chef worked wonders with food, doing things I've never seen outside of TV. Saute, grilling, slicing and dicing - you name it, it was done. The man didn't speak English, but he spoke to me THROUGH COOKING.
I'll let that sink in for a moment.
Ready? Okay, so through viewing his methods, I believe that some of his powers rubbed off on me like some sort of steak marinade, and the juices are going to linger for quite some time.
With that being said...here we go:
The first part of my pesto experience was, naturally, making the sauce itself. I had gone to the market and bought basil, but that was such an effort because they didn't have it fresh. They had bunches of parsley, spinach, even arugula. Who even the hell uses arugula? Isn't that some ancient Greek emperor anyway? Why would they even name a vegetable after him? Did he make amazing Greek pesto and lamb pasta whilst watching slaves being eaten by lions?
So many questions.
Anyway, I had to buy the basil in these little packages, and after some mumbling and grumbling I finished the rest of my shopping. Oh yes, I also bought shaving cream and now I'm stoked to shave tomorrow.
I get home and begin: 2 cups of basil leaves, packed tightly because I make my shit homemade. I toss it into the blender, along with 1/2 a cup of extra virgin olive oil, because the last thing I want is my olive oil being some kind of cheap whore.
Ah yes, coming together nicely...
Then comes the blending. I add some chopped up garlic to give the pesto the awesome power of GAAAAAHLICCCK, and then proceed to liquefy the fuck out of that shit.
I've also noticed that the garlic shaped like New Jersey. Represent.
It blended so smoothly.
Uhhh, yeah...that looks smooth...
Oh. Actually, it looks kind of like Slimer's asshole.
After making the sauce, I proceed to the cooking of the meats. My wife requested steak, since she's not been a fan of chicken lately. Being the awesome husband that I am (and the fact that I wanted to level grind my cooking skills), I obliged and began the seasonings.
The first was the steak. I used a simple seasoning of Adobo (because I'm like 18 parts hispanic), pepper, and red wine vinegar. I rubbed it in like I owned a massage parlor, then left it in the fridge as I prepared the chicken.
This stuff makes for some crazy ass flavor.
With the chicken, I went another route: I sprinkled some lemon juice on it and then waited. And waited. Once I got tired of that shit, I placed some oil in two saute pans and got to work.
Doesn't that just look scrumptious?
I decided to cook the chicken first. As the oil heated, I dripped red wine vinegar onto the pan, then browned some garlic. I then placed the chicken and began mixing it all up. By the way, I should note that I've at level 22 in cooking: I've acquired the skill of flipping meat in a pan with ease! Nothing makes you feel more like a chef boss, I swear.
I moved to the steak. I browned some garlic in the pan and then dropped the delicious meat in it, then dousing it all with some soy sauce. You could already taste the deliciousness.
Here's both of them. Guess which is which!
After constant turning and shaking, the meats were finished. As I was doing all of this, mind you, I already had the pasta water at a boil. It was all coming together so nicely.
Spoiler alert: This is the chicken.
This is the steak.
While the pasta softened, I sat and waited patiently. For about a minute.
For what it's worth, I was fucking STARVING.
I tested the pasta after some time.
Tender. It was time to go.
I drained the pot, leaving just a bit of pasta water for the pesto to make it a bit creamier. It was looking so great, and my mouth was watering. I couldn't wait any longer, and unlatched the blender to pour the pesto and finalize my newest dish!
Except we just got a new blender, and it's my first time using it. The blender came off, all right, but I unlatched the wrong part.
Pesto everywhere.
As I destroyed the ears of innocent children with a barrage of cusses and mindless threats, I managed to salvage just a bit for one plate.
A moment of silence for its pesto brethren. Also,
I could have taken a better picture.
With no other options, and a big mess to clean up, I opted for some marinara sauce, heated it up quickly, and then poured it onto my chicken pasta. I'm not exactly sure what you'd call that dish...isn't it chicken piccata? It's that. Anyway, I managed two dishes rather than the one I set out to cook initially.
Yup. Piccata.
This...wasn't exactly a success. Like an 85%. I promise my next dish will come out better, but holy shit - these two dishes were DELICIOUS.
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