Thursday, 19 July 2012
"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou alone art…" intimated the Bard in what would later become one of his most celebrated poems. Unfortunately, the first time he ever recited it--and it was not in front of the Queen, but rather in a dingy public house called "The Dragon and the Cherry"--, he was interrupted by someone shouting "NO!" in the audience.
Laughter roared, mugs of ale clashed, (servants looked upset at the spoiled ale they now had to clean up), porks continued to gyrate on their pits, flies buzzed, musicians got drunk, guards dropped their halberds, cooks cut themselves, dogs fled in panic, beards continued to grow, heads turned, someone fell pretty hard, chairs broke, clouds gathered, cakes toppled, drums beat the incessant warnings of war, in short: the universe turned round to look at what had happened, stopped for a second, took a deep breath and shook loose all the tension of the past minute.
Only the poor Bard looked wretched and dismayed. His bewildered eyes searched for the cause of the uproar, of his failure. Finally they locked upon a curious gentlemen sitting in a corner. A pipe was hanging from his smiling lips, but from afar the Bard could not tell whether his imagination revealed what was really was a pipe or in fact a whisker.
'Let me show you why you may not', said the gentleman and beckoned the Bard to join him. 'Look at this. This is what a summer's day looks like--not what you were about to say.' He was pointing at a plate on his table. On it was heaped something no one at that time in that part of the world had ever seen before. The Bard did not understand, of course. Seeing his friend in difficulty, the gentleman invited him to taste the dish of summer. 'It was my packed lunch, you know', said the gentleman while the Bard expanded his culinary horizon and with it the extent of his imagination and thus his virtuosity, 'but I figured that it might be more useful to you'.
The Bard bowed to the ground before the strange gentleman and retired to a lonely table. He took out a paper and a quill and, with one wide motion, crossed out what was written on it. He only left the first sentence, and continued, in the second line, with "Thou art more lovely and more temperate…".
And so it was that a packed lunch, prepared by Divine Cherry for one of Celestial Dragon's tempo-spatial excursions, was responsible for the awakening of the most brilliantly poetic mind of the English-speaking world. In other words, Divine Cherry's tabouleh, as you may gather from the title, has in itself the very spark of divinity.
- 200 g cous cous
- 1 bunch of fresh parsley
- 15 small tomatoes
- 1/4 of one big red onion
- 1/2 lemon juice
- Extra virgin olive oil
- salt and pepper
Bring to the boil 200-220 g of water. Pour the water over the cous cous in the a large bowl. After 5 minutes, stir with a fork to separate the grains. Dress with oil and salt. Finely chop the parsley. Dice the tomatoes and the onion into small pieces. Put the vegetables in a large bowl and dress generously with olive oil, lemon juice, salt and pepper, let it to stand for at least 10 minutes. Stir in the cous cous and serve.
- 200g cous cous
- 1 mazzetto di prezzemolo fresco
- 15 pomodorini datterini
- 1/4 cipolla rossa di tropea (la mia era grande per questo solo un quarto)
- il succo di mezzo limone
- abbondante olio evo
- salee pepe
In un pentolino fate bollire 200- 220 g di acqua. Ponete il cous cous in una ciotola e versateci sopra l'acqua bollente. Lasciate riposare qualche minuto e poi separate i chicchi con una forchetta, salate e oliate. Triate il prezzemolo. Tagliate i pomodorini e la cipolla a dadini molto piccoli. In una ciotola capiente versate pomodorini, cipolla e prezzemolo, condite con abbondante olio, il succo di limone sale e pepe e lasciate riposare per almeno 10 minuti per far insaporire le verdure. Aggiungete infine il cous cous, mescolate bene e servite.
And Spread the Mess