 |
| It's Automatic... |
I never planned to move back to DC from Miami, and still view it as a temporary upheaval, necessitated by, as they say, these economic times. It's cold here, and drab as hell, with not a grain of sand or a palm tree in sight. You could swing a dead cat all day and never hit anything. But I'll count my blessings-a job, a local bar where you can still smoke, a cheap apartment, a walk to the Metro, a decent library, and a neighborhood Target. (Still waiting for all those Giada and Rachael and Paula Deen products to go on sale, guys.) I also have superstar-chef Michel Richard's Central four Metro stops from my apartment (for Miamians, a Metro is like a subway that works), and feel compelled to swing by for a Plymouth Gin Martini or a glass of Priorat and a mac and cheese about once a week. Little Mickey Richards got his start as a pastry chef, of course, and he has just released 'Sweet Magic: Easy Recipes for Delectable Desserts'. I had already started baking (it keeps the apartment warm), so when I heard that he had created a recipe for a flan with an 'automatic crust', I was intrigued. Turns out the 'automatic crust' is Israeli couscous, which I just happened to have on hand. You butter a baking pan and coat it with the couscous (which is also called pearl pasta), then put the pan in the freezer for 30 minutes. Then after you add the eggs, milk, etc., and bake it in the oven like a regular flan, the couscous somehow magically rises to the top of the pan while baking, and forms a crust on top. Exclamation point. I was skeptical, but then there it was, all crunchy and automatic-like. Here's a link to the recipe.
Now if I just had a cortadito to go with that flan, I could slip on my Havaianas, turn up the heater, and dream of those many long, lazy afternoons in the tropical sun. And of the many to come. Querida, espera para mí....
 |
| Jiggly... |
[I buy Israeli couscous at my local health food store (also within walking distance), where I also purchase my Bragg's and my Dr. Bronner's (a little inside baseball for my crunchy brethren).]
