Tom Brown
08-02-2007, 07:08 PM
A lady friend of the Ukrainian persuasion gave me a bag of fresh pierogies this afternoon. Not believing my good fortune, I left work early, stopped by the Ukrainian Co-op for a few items, and rushed home.
At the Co-op, I picked up a can of mushroom soup, some Kielbasa sausage, a few onions, couple of garlic cloves, and a half gallon of butter.
It was to be the high point in an otherwise outstanding week. It was to be, in short, a gluttonous festival of Slavic comestibles, acute digestive discomfort, and unbearable halitosis.
The pierogies were boiled in water for seven minutes and thirty six seconds before being dropped into a mighty lake of molten butter.... salted, of course. The onion, now fried an erotic shade of golden brown, were added to the Uke stew, as was the can of mushroom soup and a little milk.
Not knowing how much sausage to buy, I let my raging hunger and unashamed fetish for Ukrainian cuisine rule the day. About one third of the sausage fit in my largest fry pan. The rest would have to wait for another day.
... as quickly as the cooking started, it was done. Oh... how it was done.
Steam poured off the plate as I directed my full attention on keeping the plate perfectly level. Even the slightest cant would have sent those friction free, high gloss delights skimming off the plate and landing in the carpet like Eddie - The Eagle - Edwards launching from a 120 meter ski hill and landing in a fifty foot base of fresh powder.
My tongue is still swollen from the searing burns of an impatient man but no matter; all's the more with which to remember such a rare moment of culinary greatness. Never before have I achieved so highly in the kitchen and then so efficiently disembowelled myself with glistening lumps of low nutritional value.
In about thirty minutes, I expect to finish the evening with roughly an hour and a half of greasy farts and cheek puffing belches.
I hope you all have a wonderful evening. I'm going to put on my sweat pants and sit on the front step for a while before turning in.
At the Co-op, I picked up a can of mushroom soup, some Kielbasa sausage, a few onions, couple of garlic cloves, and a half gallon of butter.
It was to be the high point in an otherwise outstanding week. It was to be, in short, a gluttonous festival of Slavic comestibles, acute digestive discomfort, and unbearable halitosis.
The pierogies were boiled in water for seven minutes and thirty six seconds before being dropped into a mighty lake of molten butter.... salted, of course. The onion, now fried an erotic shade of golden brown, were added to the Uke stew, as was the can of mushroom soup and a little milk.
Not knowing how much sausage to buy, I let my raging hunger and unashamed fetish for Ukrainian cuisine rule the day. About one third of the sausage fit in my largest fry pan. The rest would have to wait for another day.
... as quickly as the cooking started, it was done. Oh... how it was done.
Steam poured off the plate as I directed my full attention on keeping the plate perfectly level. Even the slightest cant would have sent those friction free, high gloss delights skimming off the plate and landing in the carpet like Eddie - The Eagle - Edwards launching from a 120 meter ski hill and landing in a fifty foot base of fresh powder.
My tongue is still swollen from the searing burns of an impatient man but no matter; all's the more with which to remember such a rare moment of culinary greatness. Never before have I achieved so highly in the kitchen and then so efficiently disembowelled myself with glistening lumps of low nutritional value.
In about thirty minutes, I expect to finish the evening with roughly an hour and a half of greasy farts and cheek puffing belches.
I hope you all have a wonderful evening. I'm going to put on my sweat pants and sit on the front step for a while before turning in.