I tried to do my best, here in the Manor, to get with the season, in re Passover and Easter.
It’s true that I didn’t splash any lamb’s blood on my door.
Not that I expected him. Because I happened to know that Jesus last weekend was wallowing in roll-away-the-stone passion with a Minnesota siren, there in her abode of toast the savior warm, bouncing the bedsprings with thee.
Certainly there is nothing that I could offer him, that she was not then delivering.
I did bake some lamb’s blood. Oozing outta ground lamb, the essential ingredient in kofta, born of the Egyptians—the Passover connection, there—but these days most often munched by mountain-dwelling Afghans, a little sustenance before they commence to race down the hill to scream and shoot at dull-domed Americans, trying to convince them to get the hey out of their “country.”
You can find the recipe for this wonderment, as well as various assorted other Judeo-Christian heresies, beyond the “furthur.”
Kofta is a dish that, it says here in The Pharaoh’s Feast, is “as old as time itself.” This means that Someone was making it during the Big Bang.
Some time thereafter—roughly 500 years or so, according to those who believe that Adam and Eve rode dinosaurs to church—the Egyptians were cooking up the stuff, on meal-breaks from flogging Hebrews around the pyramids.
12 whole black peppercorns
salt to taste
1 pound ground lamb
1 whole leek, tough green portions eschewed, washed and finely chopped
fresh Italian parlsey, chopped
pinch of sage
In a mortar, crush the peppercorns, together with the salt. This combine in a bowl with the lamb and the leek and the parsley and the pinch of sage. Get your hands all mooshy in there. Form the moosh into ovals the size of good-sized walnuts.
If you have an open fire, skewer the lamb-walnuts, and cook them over the flames. If you don’t happen to be out under the drone-filled skies, bake them in the oven for about 20-25 minutes, at 350 degrees.
If the taste seems too bland, smother in something like oobleck.
If any plagues are coming by, and you’re fresh out of lamb’s blood, kofta will do. Just line the doormat with ‘em.
Also I made Real and True fettucini alfredo. Come from the cranium of Alfredo di Lellio, chef and restaurateur, and served up first in Rome in 1920.
The seasonal connection here that it was the Romans who what done Jesus. Notwithstanding 2000 years of lies from Ratzinger’s crew, who would pin the rap on the Jews.
This recipe even simpler than the kofta. More be divine, too.
1 pound fresh fettucini
1 stick unsalted butter, softened at room temperature
1 heaping cup freshly grated parmigiano-reggiano
fresh ground black pepper to taste
Meanwhile, combine the butter and cheese in a heated serving bowl.
Drain pasta, add to the bowl, toss. Mix in the pepper, and serve.
I also made barley bread. This comes from the Greeks. Who have been baking it since before there were any Romans, or any Jesuses. Not before there were Jews, though. But before they passed over.
It is true that the Greeks are not particularly known for their Easter and Passover observances. They are more associated with history, science, philosophy, drama, oracles, fate, the Olympics, burning cars in the street rather than paying taxes, and pederasty.
And barley bread.
Still, the latter is divine, and so appropriate for the season.
3/4 cup milk
1/2 cup honey
1/2 cup greek feta cheese, crumbled
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 cup warm water
2 envelopes active dry yeast
3 cups barley flour
3 cups whole wheat flour
1.5 tablespoons whole anise seed
In a small cast-iron skillet, heat the milk until boiling. Stir in the honey and cheese. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until the cheese melts. Add 2 tablespoons olive oil, and mix. Let mixture cool until lukewarm.
Meanwhile, place the warm water in a large bowl. Sprinkle in the yeast. Stir to dissolve. Add 1.5 cups barley flour and 1.5 cups wheat flour. Blend well with a wooden spoon. Add the lukewarm cheese mixture, the anise seed, and the remaining flour. Knead well, until you have attained a stiff dough. Roll into a ball. Cover with a towel and let rest for 20 minutes.
Liberally grease a 9 x 5 x 3 loaf pan with olive oil. Press the dough into the pan. Cover with a towel and let rise for 2.5 hours. Know that it won’t rise much.
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Brush the top of the loaf with olive oil, and bake for about 45 minutes.
I’m not showing you a picture of this one. Because barley bread is sacred, and we don’t photograph such things. Also, because this loaf was something of a failure. It tastes alright, but visually it is displeasing.
If I were Japanese, I would not have been able to live with the shame of this failure, and so would have taken my life. Of course, if I were Japanese, I would probably not have been making barley bread.
Also, I couldn’t find a decent short sword at any of the antique stores around here. Too, my second is currently marooned on Venus.
In any event, not being able to live with the shame is not really an Easter and Passover thing. More the Fourth of July.