The Comb. 121
The Great Plotnik is feeling sad today. This is because The Great BeeziWeezi is 2,227 miles away. The Great PunkyDunky is 8,997 miles away. The Great Five Head is 380 miles away.
Seeing his children makes The Great Plotnik happy. Hearing them laugh makes him happy. Knowing they're contented makes him happy. And stuffing their little gullets with food.
The Great BeeziWeezi, The Great PunkyDunky and The Great Five Head know that the second they walk in the door they will be forced to eat. They cannot escape. It doesn't matter if they're hungry or not. They will eat, or risk The Wrath of Plotnik.
The Great Plotnik's children always go for the Comb. 121 (Feta-Lemon Pasta with Capers). In the Plotnikie religion, the Comb. 121 is eaten on the first day of the new moon, or the last day of the old moon, or when the crescent moon is waxing, or waning, or during a gibbous moon, or a Wally Moon, or a Reverend Moon, or any other moon, or if there's no moon at all.
Here's how you make a Comb. 121:
Peel and chop three onions, three cloves of garlic and three shallots. Sautee them in olive oil. Add three chopped tomatoes. Sautee a little longer. Add several tablespoons of fresh herbs -- mint, parsley, marjoram and tarragon work nicely. Cook slowly until the house smells like Il Bambino Restaurant in Florence. Then add three tablespoons of capers and three tablespoons of pitted kalamata olives. Add some white wine if it gets too thick.
Boil three quarters of a pound of fresh lemon fettucine. It only needs a minute to cook. Drain the pasta and toss into the pot with the sauce. Cook a few minutes to thicken the sauce with the pasta starch. Turn off the flame and add half a pound of crumbled French feta cheese. Mix, then turn it all into your Grandmother's pottery pasta bowl. Eat until your stomach feels like you swallowed a brick. See The Great Plotnik smile.
4 Comments:
This self-proclaimed "non-nik" would gladly become a nik if you would feed me.
oh, boy - the best comfortnik ever!
the great beeziweezi wishes that new york city had fresh lemon pasta and that san francisco wasn't always so hard to leave.
Me too, GBW, me too. Love, TGP
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