August 2011

Fuck pine nuts dude. Now I don’t normally spite shit just because it’s expensive. I will pay for nice cheeses, maybe a duck salami, homemade cream cheese spun with sun-dried tomatoes. But I just can’t get into footing the bill for pine nuts.

And I’m glad, because then I never would have fell in love with almonds.

It was Bennett’s turn to cook. We thought of this baked orzo dish with lots of vegetables from the market. And pesto. A thick pesto sauce blanketing every little noodle.

I was typing in the bedroom. But couldn’t resist checking in on Bennett. I spied him cutting a pepper, letting almonds dance on a dry pan. And it smelled wonderful. Like warmth and butter.

Modern Man played out of his Android and I quickly wiggled my neck around, pursing my lips, dancing from the shoulders up.

He slid the almonds from the pan and into the blender, grinding them into crumbs. Honestly, we could have tossed the crumbs with oil and have been set. But we put the whole package together with salt and pepper and cheese and basil.

We threw the extra crumbs in the freezer, which have since been blended with Swiss chard and Colman’s mustard for a slightly bitter pesto (pictured above as a spread for a sandwich of oven-dried tomatoes and patty pan sqaush) and then combined with Parmesean to top a baked tomato stuffed with Jersey corn, jalepeno and scallions.

And that’s how I fell in love with almonds.