My favourite is my OWN pasta sauce
carrots, sweet peppers, tomatoes, onions, tomato purée, basil, minced beef and aromats ... Then Barilla Penne, fusilli, spaghetti or farfalle pasta
but BARILLA only !!!
#60420 by Guest
Tue Dec 14, 2004 3:34 pm
Tue Dec 14, 2004 3:34 pm
i havent ate much in days. All this talk about food isnt helping. I crave for some pasta right now....
My co-existence on this rockball with these diminutive cabbage-like creatures has been, at times, a rather intricate and convoluted relationship - that of snake and mongoose springs readily to mind. Or perhaps even more succinctly - Jerry and Kramer...
As an infant I swore blindly that these particular agglomerations of misappropriated organic material were put on Earth by Satan to corrupt the digestive tracts of the young and foolish. Kind of a bland "papier mâché" update to the oft-maligned apple in the garden of Eden, if you will.
(Come to think of it now, I believe that ol' Nick's spin doctors might have failed him somewhat in this department. To wit: temptation requires attractiveness. These peculiar little beasts appear to have none of this quality...at least to the eyes, minds and stomachs of the all-too-impressionable rugrats.)
Fast forward approximately 10 solar laps; the horrid maelstrom of "puberty" fast becoming a distant and perverse memory, filled with involuntary pup tents and inexplicable sheet slicks... I found that much to my complete dismay I could actually endure supping upon some of these inscrutable wee green lumps without too much gag-reflex and/or bile-reflux. So long as they weren't boiled to within a modicum of their miserable lives...and not too soggy.
"I said NOT TOO SOGGY woman!!"
Looking back I believe that this seemingly contrary and mysterious alliance may have been somewhat precipitated by my sudden but not entirely unexpected prediliction for the molecule CH3CH2OH - the ethyl alcohol genie along with all its wondrous soporific qualities. Once one's metabolism adapts to this particular chemical intrusion, it follows that the ingestion of a few tiny leafy parcels such as the aforementioned "Sprouts from Brussells" causes little or in fact no discomfort whatsoever to one's body chemistry.
Time waits for no one though, and as the geological eons roll past one find's one's taste becoming more refined, more subtle, more...dare I say it...Epicurean. The culinary delights of the world exist only to tickle and arouse one's palate, and one can freely live as a gourmet (or indeed, gourmand) experiencing all the gastronomic and culinary delights that this devil-may-care society can, er..."throw up" at one. I am free to indulge in the joyous cuisine of several dozen cultures in any deviant capacity, knowing that my discernment of all things yummy has reached its perspicacious zenith. And so now I find...
I cannot abide the little fuckers.
As an infant I swore blindly that these particular agglomerations of misappropriated organic material were put on Earth by Satan to corrupt the digestive tracts of the young and foolish. Kind of a bland "papier mâché" update to the oft-maligned apple in the garden of Eden, if you will.
(Come to think of it now, I believe that ol' Nick's spin doctors might have failed him somewhat in this department. To wit: temptation requires attractiveness. These peculiar little beasts appear to have none of this quality...at least to the eyes, minds and stomachs of the all-too-impressionable rugrats.)
Fast forward approximately 10 solar laps; the horrid maelstrom of "puberty" fast becoming a distant and perverse memory, filled with involuntary pup tents and inexplicable sheet slicks... I found that much to my complete dismay I could actually endure supping upon some of these inscrutable wee green lumps without too much gag-reflex and/or bile-reflux. So long as they weren't boiled to within a modicum of their miserable lives...and not too soggy.
"I said NOT TOO SOGGY woman!!"
Looking back I believe that this seemingly contrary and mysterious alliance may have been somewhat precipitated by my sudden but not entirely unexpected prediliction for the molecule CH3CH2OH - the ethyl alcohol genie along with all its wondrous soporific qualities. Once one's metabolism adapts to this particular chemical intrusion, it follows that the ingestion of a few tiny leafy parcels such as the aforementioned "Sprouts from Brussells" causes little or in fact no discomfort whatsoever to one's body chemistry.
Time waits for no one though, and as the geological eons roll past one find's one's taste becoming more refined, more subtle, more...dare I say it...Epicurean. The culinary delights of the world exist only to tickle and arouse one's palate, and one can freely live as a gourmet (or indeed, gourmand) experiencing all the gastronomic and culinary delights that this devil-may-care society can, er..."throw up" at one. I am free to indulge in the joyous cuisine of several dozen cultures in any deviant capacity, knowing that my discernment of all things yummy has reached its perspicacious zenith. And so now I find...
I cannot abide the little fuckers.
yeah I don´t think that I will like them even when I´m 50. But who knows. I´m only 22 so maybe, maybe, when I grow older I´m gonna start to really love them. Oh yeah and hell just froze by the way.
These receipe's you guys are giving will help me cook up something special for my girlfriend. I was thinking hamburger helper and brownies, but i got you guys to help.
BS are really nice halfed and stir-fried, says my brother.
Like broccoli...the kind of thing that you think is foul as a kid, but stir-fried it is amazing. If only my mum had gave it to me that way sooner.
Like broccoli...the kind of thing that you think is foul as a kid, but stir-fried it is amazing. If only my mum had gave it to me that way sooner.
"Mongo only pawn in game of life..."
Persuader wrote:What the f*ck is Brussel sprouts ??
Are you kidding? Your childhood must have been pain free!
Here they are. Like Geoff, they play havoc with my insides. I'm a stinky guy after I've had them.
I wanted a car and I got a computer. How's that for being born under a bad sign?
well, they are like the brain of the cabbage. Concentrated with evil.
All the taste of a cabbage condensed.
Urgh!
All the taste of a cabbage condensed.
Urgh!
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