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Pasta Genovese

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pasta genovese

pasta genovese

There are times when you come to the conclusion that what you want from a film is exactly what you are expecting from your relationship and a perfect partner – humour, geeky references, unexpected jokes and an absolutely amazing soundtrack. I know it sounds harsh but I can’t get to like or respect some people because of their taste in music. Or the lack of it.

It’s great if you can find someone who finishes your sentences with a song lyric. It is also great to watch a film which makes your giggle and makes you feel like you ‘just can’t control your feet’. And I can’t blame it on the boogie but on ‘Guardians of the Galaxy’.

There was a lot of hype about the film after the release but I have to say, it was well deserved. It’s not just another Marvel comic book put to life. It is a really funny, relaxed film.  Chris Pratt as Quill is perfectly cast. He’s not a super hero, more of a misfit and accidental hero. He reminds me a bit of Harrison Ford as Han Solo or Indiana Jones, especially that he’s got similar charisma, goofiness and charm with the ladies.

First time in a while I actually laughed out loud watching a film. And I’m a sucker for Pollock and ‘Footloose’ references.

But the most unexpected thing for me was the soundtrack. It’s truly an awesome mix tape. Every song is perfectly chosen and fits like a glove to each scene. It will be my mix tape for a while.

If you haven’t watched it yet, you simply just must. Especially if you feel gloomy.

And with it you have to have a nourishing classic like:

Pasta Genovese:

pasta

200 green beans, trimmed and cut in half

4 new potatoes, washed and quartered

100g pine nuts

for the pesto:

1 cup spinach

1 cup basil

1 cup kale

1 cup rocket

100 g almonds

1 avocado

zest and juice of one lemon

1/3 cup olive oil

1. Start by cooking pasta and blanching green beans and potatoes.

2. In the meantime blend almonds in a food processor until they turn into small crumbs. Add rest of the ingredients and blend until smooth. Add salt and pepper, more lemon or oil to your taste.

3. Drain pasta and mix with all the rest of the ingredients. Sprinkle with toasted pine nuts and veggie parmesan (optional).

pasta Genovese

pasta Genovese

pasta Genovese

pasta Genovese

pasta Genovese

pasta Genovese

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About potatofaces

People who cook always go on about precious memories of childhood food one of their family members cooked, how daddy or nanny taught them the importance of cooking and eating together, and they still remember the comfort food they produced, amazing dishes whipped up by brilliant but humble cooks in their family. Well, let me tell you, it was totally different in my family. My mother’s family – totally useless as cooks, who could survive on bread and butter, cooked once a week a terrible, terrible meal, usually some kind of meat piece with lots of brown sauce. Also, they were never bothered about eating together. That’s maybe why most of them were depressed and suicidal. My mother followed that path and couldn’t really cook, and because I never wanted to eat meat, was warning me that ‘one day I will regret it’. Probably because my mother wasn’t into cooking my sister at the age of 12 took over and started producing amazing dinners and cakes. Well, luckily for me and her we weren’t that genetically doomed because apparently my father’s family were gifted in that compartment. I can only presume it was genes, as my father divorced my mother when my sis and me were little and he strongly believed that he also divorced us. So, we were growing up never having any contact with him and as a result, couldn’t learn how to cook from him. That’s why I believe the love of cooking ( and the ability) was just passed to us genetically. My father, short time before he died, unexpectedly felt an urge to contact us. First he gave my sister a mandolin (that’s another thing I know about him- he played a few instruments). My sister refused to talk to him, he then decided to contact me and wanted to spend some time with me. I didn’t want to, as he was a stranger to me (I was 11 or 12 at the time) but as I was promised I could leave whenever I wanted to, I went to the village he lived in. There I tried his mother’s cooking everyone was raving about. It was simple and amazing, I wish they were as family dedicated as they were at baking, cooking, making pastries, wine, tinctures, you name it. But I ate, drunk, and got bored of strangers who were my family and demanded to be let to go home. One of the last things my father said to me was that I should start learning English because I might need it one day, which I ignored for another 16 years… Because my sister was such a domestic goddess I wasn’t really bothered about cooking. I got hooked properly after my son was born and I wanted him to eat healthy and get everything he needed, especially that it wasn’t his choice to be a vegetarian (yet). And that is how the story begins…

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