En France, the culture of the meal is a meticulous thing.
Sometimes a salad starter just ain't enough.
Far be it from a monstre to not LEAP (enthusiastically and haphazardly) at this opportunity to master ze hors-d'oeuvres.
Monstres, you see, aren't the cleverest things sometimes, and the general trend in monstre cooking techniques, despite the seething mass of readily available recipes a handful of keystrokes and a boot-sequence away, seems to be to stumble into the grocery store with eyes shut, nostrils flaring, and teeth gritted against the pizza guy coming 'round again.
Hier soir the pizza guy couldn't have been further from another glance at my cleavage.
Intent on using up the handful of smoked salmon slices dans le frigo, a can of asparagus mashed up with cream cheese and some random fresh spice from the �picerie and voil�... Mash up the asparagus and cheese until good and creamy, spread it with a spoon (or your fingers if you're a monstre and your dinner guest is out of sight in the bathtub) on the salmon and roll it up tight. Stick it in the fridge to harden, and then slice it into little finger-rolls...
And later on wonder how in hell you came up with that idea whilst wandering the cereal aisle.
Musta been the scent of the coffee one aisle over.
As for the pasta, monstres didn't know how easy it is to use potato gnocchi instead of penne in order to feel less guilty about having had noodles the last six times you cooked.
A couple of chopped tomatoes per person, enough onion to make you cry but not ruin your minimal mascara, simmered on the stove until the juice reduces... Throw in the spinach because you're getting your period next week and need the calcium to not cramp so badly (the magnesium in the oniones helps too, or in chocolate for dessert), some shredded smoked prosciutto because you feel guilty not serving meat at a meal in france, and let it sit in the saucepan idly bubbling away while you work on the salmon all the while licking more cheese-and-asparagus off your fingers than ended up on the salmon.
Some pepper freshly ground into the pasta, some cayenne for fun, and more of that fresh rosemary that had been sitting on top of the tomatoes in the march�, and bare minutes later you're mixing it into the pot of drained gnocchi and the boy is standing there gasping at the wax-dripped winebottle candle holders and the salmon rolls standing out so prettily against pale yellow dishes.
All this in forty-five hungry minutes or less. (if it takes longer monstres and their MIA attention spans get painfully bored)
Sometimes, a good St-Emillion just needs to be accompanied by something more than a ham sammidge, y'know?
(Next time, I want to try the same thing but with Tuna instead of salty and smoked prosciutto, Arugula instead of spinach, fresh basil or cilantro instead of Rosemary and maybe some lemon rinds for zest instead of cayenne.
And maybe a nice ros�, I've been meaning to learn more about that wine.)