It’s confession time here at F&G. I despise grocery shopping. The weekly schedule of going to the store to bring home the bacon is something I despise (I do, however, enjoy going to specialty food shops and seeing what’s there). I have always hated it. I don’t understand people who pause in grocery aisles to read the same box of mac and cheese as they read the week before. Yesterday there was a room deodorizer shilling lady at the end of an aisle trying to entice anyone and everyone to buy a sweet-smell inducing gizmo (hey, is she saying my house smells bad?). And, wouldn’t you know, someone stopped dead in her tracks and blocked the entire perpendicular and parallel aisle. I don’t care how good it smells, move your cart.
In the fresh produce aisle (which sometimes is as advertised and sometimes the stuff is rotten–in my experience, if it is rotten people aren’t going to buy it), I saw some rapini and swooped on it like the green veggie vulture I am. When I got to the checkout, the cashier asked me what it was. Not so he could key in the price but because he honestly didn’t know what it was. The woman bagging looked on in interest because I’ve had to explain foodstuff to her in the past.
I got home and explained, to the better-half, my conversation with the cashier and bagger and he said he had never heard of rapini. After I whipped it up with some bacon grease, olive oil, garlic, great northern beans and chicken broth, he said I could make that dish again, anytime.
We also had some tilapia (marinade: zest of a lime and lemon, the juice of the lime and lemon, sliced garlic, soy sauce, sesame oil and vodka) which he grilled, and Tokyo Fantasy sushi. Yep, we were spanning the globe last night. We also took the sick delight in slathering on as much wasabi as we could and then shrieked about how hot it was. Ahhh, dinner at our house.