There.
The bread is mine, mine, all mine, and so is the mustard.
It is imperative that the cheese melts or else you will lose the contest in your mind.
Bread toasts, cheese melts. Those are the only two things going on. Fail either one and you totally fail.
For this reason, the toasting action is slowed slightly and the melting action increased slightly by covering the sandwich while it fries and dropping water into the pan by the teaspoon here and there. That tends to kill the frying action momentarily and creates steam that melts the cheese. The caramelization on the surface of the bread recovers from the unexpected infusion of steam. It recombines as you will see in the final photographs.
Guess what this is.
Guess, I said.
Fenugreek.
Fenugreek would have no natural place in an Italian cheese sandwich, yet here it is, boldly crossing the line over to an area where it knows it doesn't belong, but not caring. It deserves to get beat up. It is joining forces with other rogue flavor elements like cayenne and black pepper and mustard just to see what kind of trouble they can get up to, and boy, do they.
Oh my God. This picture is freaking me out. Especially at an angle, then I'm doubly freaked out.
Did I just now say freaked out? I'm sorry, I meant to say amused, but oh my God this picture is amusing me was insufficiently dramatic.
This photo is like the 3-d king Tut mummy mask photo I had in the 5th grade. I loved that thing. I stared at it all the time as if it were as interesting as, say, a washing machine with a window. The fish that I caught in a river were too big for the aquarium I put them in. They kept splashing all over the place and ruined my 3-d king Tut picture along with a dresser top. I didn't care about the dresser top but I never forgave those fish for ruining my 3-d picture of king Tut's mummy mask. I never forgave trout.
A look at the dark parts.
2 comments:
It seems discriminatory to blame an entire phylum for the acts of a few. And that's doubly true since the trout were merely obeying the dictates of Article III of the U.S. Military Code of Conduct. All men of conscience join in solidarity with our fishy cousins--especially cousins that are so tasty in beurre noisette.
They're all the same.
Every time I eat a trout I also think of a ruined 3-d picture of king Tut burial mask and their collective guilt. Trout and me, we got a thing.
I'll forgive them when I can replace the 3-d picture of king Tut's burial mask. When I finally find one I'll frame it and hang it and keep it protected from all angry fish.
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