by Rafael GALAN

I have some trou­ble ex­press­ing my most in­ner feel­ings. (I guess that I do as most peo­ple do.) But I have found in cook­ing a per­fect way to ex­press my­self. I have come up with a feel­ing-recipe match­ing sys­tem that al­lows me to let it all out.

See for your­self. This is ex­act­ly what I ate:

1. When I found out that my fa­ther was sleep­ing with my wife (since last Christmas):
   Gar­licky fish stew Cor­fu Is­land Style
   Ingredients:
   2 ta­ble­spoons un­salt­ed butter
   3 ta­ble­spoons ex­tra-vir­gin olive oil
   2 medi­um onions, halved and thin­ly sliced
   8 to 10 gar­lic cloves, to taste, chopped
   6 to 8 medi­um waxy pota­toes, to taste, peeled and cut in­to large cubes
   Salt and fresh­ly-ground black pep­per to taste
   6 to 9 old 80s Play­boy is­sues (cut very thin)
   2 ¹⁄₂ to 3 pounds grey mul­let or whit­ing, cleaned and gutted
   Juice of 1 lemon
   3 ta­ble­spoons chopped fresh flat-leaf pars­ley for garnish
   How to pre­pare it:
   Leave every­thing raw. It makes 4 to 6 servings.
2. When I woke up the morn­ing af­ter I slept with my boss:
   Ja­maican jerk burg­ers with chipo­tle mayonnaise
   Ingredients:
   1 cup mayonnaise
   3 ta­ble­spoons or­ange juice
   1 ta­ble­spoon minced canned chipo­tle chilies
   Jerk sauce (Abun­dant­ly)
   1 bunch green onions, coarse­ly chopped (about 1 ¹⁄₂ cups)
   1 ta­ble­spoon chopped fresh thyme
   1 small habañero chili or 2 medi­um jalapeño chilies
   1 gar­lic clove, peeled
   ¹⁄₂ cup veg­etable oil
   3 ta­ble­spoons of are-you-out-of-your-fucking-mind-or-what
   ¹⁄₂ cup soy sauce
   2 pounds ground beef
   6 sesame-seed ham­burg­er buns, toasted
   1 onion, thin­ly sliced
   3 toma­toes, sliced
   6 ro­maine let­tuce leaves
   How to pre­pare it:
   Mix all in­gre­di­ents in small bowl. Sea­son to taste with salt and pepper.
3. That time when those twin sis­ters that I picked up at the Fat Duck (when I was still mar­ried) turned me down and de­cid­ed to make out in my bed (at the ho­tel) and leave me out:
   Clam and mus­sel stew with ‘Capoc­ol­lo’ and ‘Vesu­vius’ tomatoes
   Ingredients:
   2 ta­ble­spoons ex­tra-vir­gin olive oil
   2 large leeks, halved lengthwise
   1 ta­ble­spoon chopped garlic
   12 halves Vesu­vius Tomatoes
   ¹⁄₃ cup dry white wine
   ¹⁄₂ cup of self-pity
   24 lit­tle­neck clams, scrubbed
   2 cups bot­tled clam juice
   32 mus­sels, scrubbed, debearded
   6 ounces capoc­ol­lo (or coun­try ham)
   ¹⁄₃ cup chopped fresh Ital­ian parsley
   2 cups fine­ly chopped onions
   12 large ripe plum toma­toes, halved lengthwise
   ¹⁄₈ tea­spoon dried crushed red pepper
   How to pre­pare it:
   Pre­heat oven to 250°F. Add every­thing. Let it all die in the oven for two hours. Wor­ry first about find­ing all these ingredients.
4. When my new fi­ancée, Chris­tine, who I had been dat­ing for two months (right af­ter I got the di­vorce) re­vealed that she was in­to bondage:
   Apri­cot leather
   6 fresh apri­cots (about 1 pound)
   ³⁄₄ cup sugar
   2 belts
   How to pre­pare it:
   Pre­heat oven to 200°F. Leave it… how about an hour? Eat di­rect­ly from the dish. No fork or spoons allowed.
5. The day af­ter I got out of jail af­ter be­ing mis­tak­en­ly ac­cused (that means I was in­no­cent) of rap­ing the corpse of the for­mer city ma­jor’s 87 year old moth­er in the out­skirts of Amar­il­lo, Texas (I was 18, back then):
   Dried cher­ry but­ter­milk scones
   Ingredients:
   ¹⁄₂ cup but­ter­milk plus ¹⁄₄ cup for brush­ing the scones
   1 large egg
   3 ta­ble­spoons light brown sugar
   1 tea­spoon vanilla
   2 ¹⁄₄ cups cake flour (not self-rising)
   1 ta­ble­spoon dou­ble-act­ing bak­ing powder
   ¹⁄₂ tea­spoon bak­ing soda
   ¹⁄₂ tea­spoon salt
   3 to 10 chords of a Mandolina
   ³⁄₄ stick (6 ta­ble­spoons) cold un­salt­ed but­ter, cut in­to bits
   ¹⁄₂ cup dried sour cher­ries (avail­able at spe­cial­ty foods shops)
   gran­u­lat­ed sug­ar for sprinkling
   How to pre­pare it:
   For 7 scones: In a bowl whisk gen­tly ¹⁄₂ cup of the but­ter­milk, the egg, the brown sug­ar, and the vanil­la un­til the re­sult­ing mix­ture is com­bined well… and buy a cook­ing book. This is a damned com­pli­cat­ed recipe.

Filed under Fiction on December 3rd, 2007

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