dimanche, avril 09, 2006

C'mon Already, Rutabaga

I have a confession to make: I'm a chronic vegetable roaster. My claims to fame are converting both Yam and Onion haters.

Aside from a roast in the oven, nothing slows the neighbors walking past my house more than a pan of shallots, yams, red potatoes, carrots, and garlic roasting in the oven at 450 with a bunch of butter, salt, and honey. On one occasion, my neighbor was walking her dog, whose nose was up in the air tracking the smell.

For the faint of heart, toss some shallots, mushrooms and garlic with melted butter and salt and roast until you have a purpley, slightly crispy concotion. Use your wooden spoon. About 3/4 of the way through, take your finger and taste the self-saucing sauce from the back of the spoon. You'll just die right there.

But tonight I believe I have met my match. Hella Rutabaga I've started to call it. It's taking forever and I have a gas stove you know....

50 minutes in the oven and it's not said uncle.

In the meantime, I have a guinness reduction sauce (yes, I reduced guinness with some honey on top of the stove) just waiting to be smothered on said rutabaga and left to glaze in the last part of roasting. But alas, it has not succumbed to my roasting charms.

Son of a!

2 Comments:

Blogger Nick said...

That's horrible!! And here I was actually thinking of inviting you to the PERV meetings... but not if you torture those poor vegetables like that. Reform now! Renounce your horrible ways! ;)

8:16 PM, avril 10, 2006  
Blogger Phelony Jones said...

Oh dear. They would not like my kind! Especially if they saw the innocent slabs of eggplant with grillmarks on them...

8:34 PM, avril 10, 2006  

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