Archive for the ‘food’ Tag

It’s time to come clean   Leave a comment

One of the most unique aspects of humanity is our ability to talk. Almost all lifeforms above the ocean are capable of making some sort of sound, but humanity’s sounds are more complex, and are able to broach a much wider variety of topics. Cornelius, for instance, is only able to communicate two things:

1) I want food
2) You are making me into food

When James picks up Cornelius’ two front legs and makes him dance, Cornelius feels as if he is a larger predator who is merely playing with him before being eaten. So as soon as James drops Cornelius’ legs, Cornelius runs away. James, for all his humanity, cannot communicate to Cornelius that he’s playing for the simple act of playing.

And yet in the wild, cats don’t really meow past kittenhood. Yet Cornelius meows to us all the time, to say that he’s hungry, or to say that he’s annoyed, or to say that he’s hungry, or to say that he’s pleased that we’ve woken up so that we can feed him, or to say that he’s pleased that we’re home, because humans tend to feed Cornelius as soon as they come home. Feed him. He’s adorable. Feed the adorable kitty.

Part of the reason humans are able to get across more complex ideas than “food now” is because our breathing and our swallowing tubes are connected. A simple flap covers our breathing tubes while we swallow. But humanity developed this eons ago. We slowly develop, from an early age, the instinct to hold our breath while we chew and swallow, so as to protect our basic breathing.

Except me, apparently. In February 2015 Lacey and I went to celebrate our birthday at E Street Cinema’s Oscar Shorts marathon. As we headed out of town, we started making fun of President Obama. Lacey did a fantastic imitation of Obama’s stuttering, as I questioned his choice of flag-themed boxer shorts. She said something that make me laugh right as I swallowed some water, and then I nearly choked to death, and threw up twice all over my winter coat, and Lacey drove me straight to the hospital because I was going to die right there on our 28th birthday.

As far as I’m aware that didn’t happen, although who knows? A month later James proposed and then a little after that I got a full-time job with a company I love working for.

This morning I was watching Gravity Falls and drinking my usual morning coffee. I’m on the episode The Love God, which is not the strongest episode but certainly has a really good opening. Mabel discovers that Wendy’s ex-boyfriend, Robbie, is not getting over the break-up very well, so she takes it upon herself to find him a new girlfriend. She visits his house and meets his parents, the world’s most cheerful funeral directors.

mr and mrs valentino

They ask Mabel to bring Robbie his lunch, a plate of spaghetti that uses the meatballs and the sauce to make a smiley face.

lady i like your style

“Lady, I like your style,” says Mabel. Then she goes upstairs.

“You know who would look good in a sweater like that?” asks Mrs. Valentino after Mabel leaves. “Mrs. Grabbelson’s remains!”

Mr. Valentino laughs. “Oh, absolutely!”

We are then treated to a montage of Robbie growing up.

robbie 1

robbie 2

robbie 3

At that last picture, the overdramatic angst of 15-year-old Robbie combined with the random idea that what if Robbie and Mabel got married caused me to laugh right as I was taking a sip of coffee, and some water started going down the wrong pipe and, in a desperate attempt to not die, I threw up all over the carpet in our half-bath (and in the sink, but throwing up on the carpet sounds more dramatic and I will always go with the more dramatic-sounding option in the narrative of my life).

Obviously I did not die, as far as I’m aware, but I’m kind of left feeling embarrassed. That’s twice in 18 months where I’ve nearly choked to death. Liquid keeps going down the wrong pipe. A basic human function is the ability to put liquid down one pipe and air down the other, and yet somehow I keep failing.

Monkey Bread and Tradition   Leave a comment

So it’s our first holiday season really together-together. Which is weird to say, because James and I have known each other since October 17, 2009 (we saw a movie, walked around Tyson’s Corner, and then visited a fish store, where I bought some lovely aquatic plants, in case you are curious).


The audio is annoying due to the noise of the filter

MY FISH TANK WAS BEAUTIFUL *sob*

Anyway, the reason why we are saying that this is our first Christmas together is because:

December 2009: we weren’t dating yet
December 2010: we didn’t live together
December 2011: we weren’t in the same state
December 2012: we didn’t even see each other
December 2013: I was going to be leaving in two weeks, it doesn’t count (says James)

So anyway this is our first Christmas really together. All other years will be compared to this year. So we got a real tree (three feet tall and sitting on an end table). We bought new ornaments to complement the few we actually liked from the ornaments James’ mother gave us. We got a mantle and hung stockings from it.

MINE IS CLEARLY SUPERIOR.

The question now is, what to do about Christmas Morning. My family makes a big deal about Christmas Morning. We have bagel and lox and we don’t open any presents until everyone’s awake. Every year we say we won’t look in our stockings, either, but the first few people to get up always get impatient and take everything out and peruse them until the last stragglers are awake. James, coming from a smaller, quieter family, would have quiet coffee cake and open presents quietly, I guess.

James comes from a very quiet family. They don’t get loud until there’s, like, 40 of them.

Anyway, setting up this entry has taken way longer than I intended. The reason why I bring this up is that I — I mean, we — have to decide on our own version of Christmas Morning. So I thought I would make Monkey Bread.

Most breads you eat are meant to be eaten in loaf form, sliced accordingly. Monkey Bread is made of little pieces of rolled-up dough that you stick together and bake so that it looks like a loaf. But really, you just tear little pieces off and eat it like that. I’ve only had it once but it was amazing.


Oh, hey, now I see what James meant when he asked if he should grab his mother’s bundt pan. It’s made in a bundt pan. Oh. Huh.

I was perusing Buzzfeed and found a list of “incredible” slow-cook dessert recipes. Most of them were chocolate, but I saved the three that weren’t. One of them was slow-cook Monkey Bread. I was excited to read it. Most recipe blogs these days have about six pages worth of lead-up talking about how delicious the recipe is and why the decided to make it, along with tons of pictures of the actual food. I skim/scroll right past all that before getting to the recipe, the reason why I’m visiting the page. I did the same thing for this recipe, and then a sentence caught my eye.

Last week I bought two cans of Pillsbury Grands! Cinnamon Rolls because (1) I’m addicted to those suckers (and, yes I do work for them but no this is not sponsored

Wait a second

I decided…why not make monkey bread? With Cinnamon Rolls? In the SLOW COOKER???

Oh no.

You can make a traditional monkey bread this way, using Grands! biscuits, but I went one step further and used cinnamon rolls because, well, why not?

This can’t be.

Plus? Cinnamon Rolls come with icing.

Please tell me it’s not.

The prep for this recipe is less than 20 minutes. You open your two cans of cinnamon rolls (5 rolls per can) and cut each into 6 pieces.

That is not a real recipe! That. Is not. A real. Recipe. Recipes aren’t “take pre-made food and then chop it up some”. Recipes are “take a whole bunch of uncooked ingredients, prepare them, and then cook them”. I even made a facebook post about it.

*sigh* If a recipe’s first ingredient is premade something-or-other, I immediately reject it. Case in point: a recipe for monkey bread that called for 2 cans of Pillsbury Grands. The blurb at the beginning of the recipe even bragged that the cinnamon rolls “even come with the cinnamon already on them!” No.

Well now wait a minute, I said to myself as I lay in bed waiting desperately to fall asleep for the first time in three days (I have a difficult relationship with sleep). Aren’t you still cooking it? Just because of the first steps are done for you, you’re still producing the final product. It’s still possible to ruin pre-made food. Look at Jose, who couldn’t beat a ball of pre-made pizza dough into a flat pizza. And yet I could, in less time than it took for him to ruin a ball of dough.

Yet I remembered when I mentioned to my manager at Petsmart that I was being trained as a baker for Harris Teeter. He got all excited. “So you’ll be kneading the dough and stuff?” No, I said. I just took the pre-made dough from the cooler and put it in the oven. He looked disappointed.

I brought up my concerns to James, who was laying next to me.

First of all, James agreed with my initial assessment: using pre-made ingredients was lazy and not real cooking.

But wasn’t taking the cinnamon roll dough and turning it into something else…that takes skill, doesn’t it? Cooking skill? Creativity? An understanding of how cooking works? In order to create a recipe, you had to understand how dough works and what a slow cooker would do to it. Just because you saved several steps by using pre-made dough, it still takes skill to turn that dough into something edible.

“Look at it this way,” James said. “Who is going to be more respected on Food network — someone who uses Pillsbury dough, or someone who takes the time to make everything from scratch?”

“Why are we using Food Network as our measuring stick?” I asked.

James didn’t know. I thought it was weird, anyway, that he would take this tact. Just the other day, he had been talking about some famous chef who said that the only deciding factor in whether or not food was good was whether or not it tastes good. This Monkey Bread probably tasted good. I probably wasn’t going to use the recipe, but it clearly made the writer, Dorothy, happy. At the end of the day, that was good enough, wasn’t it?

Dorothy writes:

I find that, when I make monkey bread in the oven the outside gets so hard and crunchy and done in order for the center to get fully cooked. I prefer my monkey bread to be soft, not hard, so this creates a problem. It’s like a fight to the death: who will get to the center of the monkey bread first?

By making the monkey bread in the crockpot, the bread steams as it cooks, keeping it soft and doughy but actually baked all over. It’ll get a little browned around the edges, as you can see, but even the browned parts stay soft.

That’s the perfect monkey bread, if you ask me!

I might take those words of wisdom and stick with a slow-cooker as my ultimate cooking tool. But I will probably make my own dough. Everyone has something to add to this world.

Posted December 21, 2014 by agentksilver in Food

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Actual Thanksgiving Post   Leave a comment

James and I spent Thanksgiving with his aunt Lynette and her family: husband Jeff, kids Paul and Alicia, and granddaughter Aiyana. We showed up only about twenty minutes before dinner was served, so we sort of got right into the whole feasting thing right away. Unfortunately, Alicia wasn’t feeling well and was upstairs for most of the night.

Before we ate, we did the usual what-are-you-thankful-for thing. Jeff went first. I was sitting on Jeff’s right, and therefore assumed that I would go last. In my family, we pass everything to the left: dishes, responsibilities, etc. However, in this family, they pass to the right. So instead of having four people recite their gratitude before me, I was thrown on the spot before I could come up with a list, much less compose it into something nice. I sort of sputtered out something about how I was glad the economy was recovering, realized that sounded cold and political, and decided by saying that I was grateful for how supportive and understand James is while I’ve been getting on my own two feet, financially speaking. James in turn said that he was grateful for the opportunities he’s had at work this year (getting into the management training program), and that he was glad he finally got to have me around all the time. Apparently James’ family had been experiencing a lot of health issues this year; they were grateful to still have each other, and were hopeful for a better next year.

We asked Aiyana what she was grateful for. She stared at us over the apple she had started eating. We laughed.

Conversation flowed pretty well. James was pretty quiet, but he perked up after he drank some water. Obviously we all overate. I had made the decision this year to only have one piece of turkey, since I always regret having a second (I got the drumstick! They gave me the second drumstick to take home!) I had planned to, instead, have two helpings of all the side dishes I liked.

After dinner, James passed out on the couch. I stayed out of the way while Lynette and Jeff cleaned up. I sat with James on the couch and started drawing in my sketchbook. James put his arm around me and straight-up fell asleep, so that I couldn’t move. Eventually James woke up, and we headed out with leftover turkey and the cheesecake James had made, thanking Lynette and Jeff profusely for dinner.

When we got home, it was time for Christmas. James turned on his Pandora Christmas station: the first song of the Christmas season was Bing Crosby’s “Let it Snow”. All was well.

black friday is here

YES WE KNOW TARGET.

Posted November 28, 2014 by agentksilver in Personal

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Stellapecunia and the start of carrot soup   Leave a comment

So the Starbucks at the Harris Teeter still hasn’t opened yet. They haven’t even broken ground. I’m going in every few days to a different Starbucks over in Durham. When I was given the store location, the store manager said, “But don’t worry. It’s near the border of Durham. It’s closer to Chapel Hill.”

I replied that I was new to the area and didn’t really know the geography of the area.

“It’s not in the Durham you’ve heard about,” he said. “It’s near the border. It’s practically Chapel Hill.”

I hadn’t heard anything about Durham at all. Apparently my confusion reached my face, because he said, “You don’t have to be nervous. It’s not really Durham at all.”

I hadn’t been nervous until he had said something.

I’ve only been once to this Starbucks at Harris Teeter. I worked an opening shift. The morning was extraordinarily slow — they usually get rushes of eight people at a time, but this time, there was just one rush, of four people. People came in ones and twos and there were long stretches of no one at all. We got to stand around and shoot the breeze a lot. The lead barista, Steve, has announced that he will completely retrain me in my espresso-machine-operating skills. I was trained to squirt the syrups into the cup, start the espresso, and then steam milk. Apparently he starts with the milk. I’m not sure what the difference is, but if that is the Harris Teeter way then I suppose I will learn it.

I don’t really mind taking my time with this training. They haven’t even broken ground yet on my Starbucks. A lot of my coworkers are getting assigned as cashiers just to get their hours. I suppose I should be more worried, about, like, my money, and stuff, but it still hasn’t really fizzled into my conscience that I make money to pay bills. Besides, I have a bit more time off, so I get to rest and focus on other things.

Like make new recipes! I’ve spent some time reading through various recipes on carrot curry soup, so I think I’ll head to the grocery store to get some ingredients. Last time I just made up a soup recipe after doing some consultation it worked out alright, so I’ll do it this way:

4 cups chicken broth
1 bag carrots (grated? baby? I’ll decide later!)
1 cup milk or sour cream or coconut milk or something
1 tbsp curry powder
Seasonings (I’ve seen ginger, cinnamon, and garlic all suggested)

I also felt sick this morning, and it just got worse and worse as the morning progressed, so I took an early lunch and stopped by Target to buy lunch and pain meds. I chatted it up with all my former coworkers, like Levy, Hunter, and Matt. Cheryl stopped me as I was leaving. She shops at the Harris Teeter where I’ll be working, and had talked with Angel, the hiring manager, about the Starbucks. She had found out from Angel that I’ll be working at the Starbucks there.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to tell anyone at Target that,” I said. “It seemed inappropriate to say, ‘Hey, Starbucks, I’m going to a different Starbucks.'”

“I’m glad you finished out your two weeks,” Cheryl said. Referencing a comment I had made about Ashley dropping Petsmart like a ton of bricks, she said, “We’ve had a lot of people just quit with no notice, and we had to scramble to cover their shifts, which you can’t really do, because no one here is trained in Starbucks.” She said it showed a lot of my character, and I got embarrassed and tried push the conversation on a different path. She said stuff like that a few more times, but I think her statements had more to do with her frustrations over the past several months. Lots of people have been quitting the Starbucks at Target; Manny, the lead, openly loathes his job, and Cheryl can tell his higher-ups all she wants about her frustrations with the job, but nothing gets done. I wasn’t the first person to quit Starbucks after just a short while, but at least I had the courtesy to treat my coworkers like human beings. I got the sense that Cheryl had talked to Angel because Cheryl wanted to get hired by Harris Teeter. Like me, she wants to try the same job with a different company.

People are more complicated than they appear on the surface. Manny appears to be a chill boss during the interview process; he avoids doing work. Cheryl openly rants about employee performance; she cares about your work and wants you to do better, and also she’s frustrated and needs to get it out.

Posted October 23, 2014 by agentksilver in Food, Personal

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The taste you can taste   Leave a comment

My manager/trainer, Manny, was not working the Starbucks counter today. Instead, it was Alicia and Kelli, although Kelli was transitioning to the cafe counter. I was nervous. I have never worked Starbucks without Manny and I still don’t know how to make drinks.

“You don’t know how to make drinks?” they asked.

I felt defensive. “Well, I know how to follow the frappuccino instructions on the counter, if you tell me what flavors to use.”

“You’ve worked here for three weeks and you don’t know how to make drinks?”

“No,” I said. “Manny won’t let me.”

Kelli got angry on my behalf and muttered something about talking to management about this. She completely understood that watching someone else make a drink is not the same as learning how to make a drink. She, too, is a hands-on learner. Alicia began to panic. This was as bad as closing by herself — working with a completely untrained barista?

Kelli found a book of recipes. Two, actually. She showed me how the pages worked (drink order/sample picture on the front, actual method of crafting on the back). Those books were my guide to getting through my shift. Sometimes Alicia told me what flavors to use, but mostly I made drinks. By myself. With just a book as my guide.

It was awesome.

I made drinks you guys! Acceptable drinks! The customers could tell that I was new — they kept smiling sympathetically and saying, “First day?” to which I said “Yeah” because heck, I felt like it was my first day. I pretty much have the Salted Caramel Mocha Frappuccino down pat, and a really good idea of how a Pumpkin Spice Latte works. I just need the book open to remind myself what the flavors are. BAM.

I might go into Target tomorrow. I’m not scheduled to work, but I kind of want to sit down with HR and discuss my situation. Since discovering this book, my comfort level with Starbucks has improved dramatically. But I still don’t feel like Starbucks is the right location for me. But Alicia and Kelli are super-nice and I’m really glad I worked with them.

I did some dry-goods shopping after work. And since I was in charge I could treat myself.

the taste you can see

I am an adult and that means I get to decide that Cinnamon Toast Crunch is an acceptable dinner.

Posted September 12, 2014 by agentksilver in Personal

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And now we’re all caught up with what I’ve been doing in Italy   Leave a comment

Yesterday was a much slower day in comparison to the last few days. I got up slowly, ate breakfast, read some more of the webcomic Freefall, and then went out and did homework.

What I tried to draw:

What I drew:

Ugh, that is terrible. I’m going to go out and find a naked statue and draw that instead. Guh.

On my way back I went grocery shopping. The roommates had all stopped at the store at some point to get groceries for themselves, but for some reason once they came back from the store they were all like “Oh by the way Kelsey we need saran wrap”. So I went shopping for saran wrap, because none of my roommates are capable of buying saran wrap for themselves. I also bought toilet paper because my bathroom is out of toilet paper. And now I can’t find the toilet paper I bought just yesterday, what the heck.

Sarah and I went out and got Mexican food. It was amazing. Italians know even less than we do about Mexico and Mexican food. The cheese was sitting outside of the burrito. All the decorations were Peruvian and Aztec(ian?). The chicken was cooked in gentle but flavorful Italian spices rather than hot Mexican spices, and it was dry (but good). It was just amazing.

Sarah and I were sitting at the end of a table for six. At one point a couple sat down at the other end of the table from us. The woman in the couple was having a rough time of it. She was crying for the first part of their meal. He was obviously trying to make her feel better, trying to say positive things, and kept leaving across the table to kiss her noisily and murmur in her ear. It was really sweet.

We ordered Coppa gelato con frutta fresca, which I translated into “a cup of ice cream with fresh fruit.” Which turned out to be accurate, but the ice cream turned out to be chocolate. So I took out the strawberries and offered my ice cream to the couple sitting next to us. They turned it down.

They left before we did. They made sure to say goodbye to us as they left. I watched them go (I was facing the same way they were going, what else was I going to do). Like half a block away he got down on one knee and said something. I wondered if he was proposing or what the heck was going on, why was he stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to get down on one knee like that. But why would he propose if she was obviously upset? None of my business, but still.

Also I can walk now, in regular shoes   Leave a comment

Whew. I can take a moment to kick my feet back and relax.

The roommates went on a school-sponsored field trip to the beach today. I was planning on visiting Vatican City today, but it turns out the Pope is in Milan and you have to get your ticket (which exists) three days ahead of time (the ticket is free, you just have to get it way in advance). So I relaxed a bit, ate some cereal, read some more Cassius Dio, then decided to go find an open market to explore.

It wasn’t far; I just had to turn right out of my building, and there it was. It had taken over the car-parts street that blocks me from having direct access to the Tiber.

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I didn’t buy this stuff, I just saw all of it sitting on a car. It was such an interesting ecletic bunch of stuff.

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Actually I had trouble deciding what I wanted to buy, if anything. I know Mom asked me to buy a refrigerator magnet, but I didn’t want to get one at the market. A fridge magnet should be bought on-site. For example, a Colosseum magnet should be bought at the Colosseum. I also examined some nice-looking paintings and prints, but no one acknowledged my existence except for some obvious immigrant salesmen who knew, before I even opened my mouth, that I’m not Italian. And they were selling scarves. I looked at some scarves, but they all said ROME on them. Not even ROMA. Come on guys. At least a little effort.

Actually I did buy some towels, because my roommates and I all hate the school-issued towels. They are too small for our needs. Also not very absorbent. The new ones aren’t, either, but at least they’re big. I didn’t know that I would miss decent towels most of all in Italy.

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I took this picture on the walk home, more because it made me laugh more than anything. It means “vote left for Rome” (Rome is in the middle of election season), but as an English speaker, it looks like it says “vote sinister for Rome”

Vote Dr Sinister for Mayor!

Vote Dr Sinister for Mayor!

I went home and looked up markets in Rome that specifically sell food, because today was my turn to cook dinner. I was going to make steak and a spinach orzo salad (bistecca e orzo spinaci). Unfortunately, the kosher butcher shop and the supermarket were both closed. Oh well, I wanted to visit a market anyway. I got directions to the only one open on Sundays, in Piazza di San Teodoro. It was just across the bridge, but then I went straight instead of turning left towards the ruins. I tried to stay close to the river, but then that meant I wasn’t finding anything useful. Finally I found a supermarket that was, somehow, open on a Sunday. It wasn’t as big as my supermarket (which is about 1/3 the size of a supermarket in the States), but it had food and it was open so whatever.

There weren’t any meats for sale. The only fresh meat they could cut was prosciutto. Which is good (it’s Italian bacon), but it’s no steak. Also, there was no orzo. I actually found that to be more weird than the lack of steak. Also, there was no spinach.

Well.

So I bought food, but I bought food based on half-remembering recipes that I had read three days ago. I bought milk, cheese, potatoes, chicken, and cream cheese. I was going to make gnocchi with alfredo sauce and chicken.

You can read the recipes I kinda-sorta followed here and here, but as I read through the recipe, I realized two things:

1) these was made to be cooked in an American kitchen
2) our apartment doesn’t have measuring cups

So the recipes I cooked ended up looking more like this:

Gnocchi

5 small-medium potatos that look approximately like they could be the same amount of potato as two large potatoes
1/3 a bag of 1 Kilo of flour
1 egg

Alfredo Sauce
Admittedly I also tried to recreate the magic of Nicole’s “alfredo” sauce, which didn’t overwhelm your tastebuds with creaminess. This concoction ended up being the best of both words: thick like a traditional alfredo, but dry and complementary to other tastes

3 and some-odd notches of butter
150 grams of cream cheese (the entire box of the biggest cream cheese you could find, really)
A bunch of dashes of garlic powder
1/3 a liter of milk (approximately)
3/4s of a mozzarella ball
Dash of black pepper

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The first step of gnocchi is surprisingly easy. You make mashed potatoes. Just boil them suckers until they are very tender, then mash them (I would recommend mashing them better than I did — I still had chunks of potato in the gnocchi even after they were noodles)

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Now combine the rest of the ingredients. You gotta moosh up together. Just stick your hands in there and squeeze ’em until it’s all one big consistent dough (this goes a lot faster if you don’t have to keep stopping to smash chunks of potato).

Do try to resist suddenly lifting your hands up, looking to the sky, and cackling madly. It’s really unbecoming and immature and you should know better.

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Then you take ALL THAT DOUGH and twist it into a whole bunch of snakes (you will end up with more than what I showed here, I just wanted to get the picture before my hands got covered in dough again). Then you chop them suckers up and toss them in boiling hot water.

COOL TRICK: if you toss the dough-chunks into the water from far away, boiling hot water splashes EVERYWHERE. Fun for everyone, including your plastic garbage bag and your exposed arms and feet! Only boring people who care about “safety” (blech) will drop their dough-chunks carefully from an inch above the water, thus allowing for as few splashes as possible.

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After a few minutes, take the pot off the stove and drain the water. Congratulations! You have made gnocchi di patati. I recommend it with a sweet tomato sauce, but it’s also really good with a white sauce like alfredo as well. Green sauces like pesto are probably not very good with it.

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Next I sliced up some chicken breast. I lined the pan with olive oil and tossed the chicken on it, then doused the whole thing with pepper. The other parts of the dish weren’t going to be very peppery, so I wanted to make the chicken stand out a bit. So I put more pepper on the chicken than I normally would have.

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I did a bit of clean-up while cooking the sauce, so this picture covers a few steps:

1) Cook all the butter on low heat
2) When you realize that the butter is actually cooking, not melting, go “holy crap!”, lower the heat, then toss in the cream cheese
3) Jab pathetically at the cream cheese until it starts to separate into chunks
4) Be very generous with the garlic for some reason
5) Once the cream cheese is completely melted, add some milk to the concoction and start stirring. Absolutely none of the sauce will look like it’s together. That’s okay, it will all work out in the end.
6) Continue to add milk in batches, stirring continuously.

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Honestly it all starts to come together once you put in the mozzarella and it starts melting. This is the major difference between my recipe and their recipe. They recommend Parmesan. This resulted in a drier, stronger, less creamy sauce, which helped bring out the gnocci and the peppery chicken some.

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I made some more chicken because the first batch wasn’t enough. Multi-tasking!

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Here is the final result! gnocchi all’alfredo e pollo. Pretty tasty!