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Simple Raw Cherry Tomatoes Pasta

There are times when  you need comfort… From a person who eats and a spectator point of few, I have my ways of finding it.

No 1 – pasta dish

No 2 – comforting, funny, not intellectual at all film.

Food first (of course)

simple raw cherry tomatoes pasta

Simple Raw Cherry Tomatoes Pasta

spaghetti

2 cups of cherry tomatoes

fresh chopped basil

chilli flakes

2 tbsp olive oil

1 clove garlic, minced

zest and juice of one lemon

salt and pepper

parmesan

toasted pine nuts

  1. Start by cutting in half cherry tomatoes. Put them in a big bowl with garlic,basil, lemon juice and zest, olive oil, salt and pepper and sprinkle of chilli flakes. Leave it to macerate.
  2. In the meantime cook pasta. When it’s al dente, drain and add with a bit of cooking water into your tomatoes. Serve with pine nuts and parmesan.

simple raw cherry tomatoes pasta

simple raw cherry tomatoes pasta

Simple!

And the film…that might surprise you, but it’s perfectly uncomplicated just like the pasta: ‘My Cousin Vinny’. What’s not to love! Marisa Tomei – love her. Joe Pesci – love him. And the film is an enjoyable experience. Of course it’s not going to awaken you with the sudden realization what the meaning of life is. But it will make you laugh. And I love smart, underestimated female characters who know a lot about cars and mechanical things and shit like that. So there you go, what’s not to like! You are welcome….

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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…

2 responses »

  1. I do this all the time at my pasta restaurant for lunch. For myself that is. Simple and too the point, can’t go wrong. 🙂

    Reply

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