When I returned to LA today after a three-week absence, my dog Oliver was the happiest being on earth. His ecstasy was very gratifying, although after a six-hour flight I could have done without the body block.
As soon as I brushed the golden retriever hairs off my black traveling pants (unlike Hillary, I was not wearing a traveling pants suit, and can we talk about what the difference is between a pants suit and a suit? Is it just that if a chick is wearing it, it’s a pants suit? What’s up with that? But I digress.) I rushed to the kitchen to make my imagined recipe for Louie’s tomato sauce. (If you are thinking, Who the hell is Louie? or What tomato sauce? then you did not read my last post. If you would like to read it and get up to speed on these crucial questions, click here. If you prefer not to read it, to remain bewildered and ignorant, your life forever a little less full, that’s up to you.)
Louie’s recipe is great. I made it with two pounds of heirloom tomatoes, which are very juicy. I chopped them and put them in a pan with three tablespoons of butter and let them simmer while I made spaghetti. (The tomatoes start to get concentrated after about ten minutes.) Then I threw the sauce on the cooked spaghetti and mixed it up with a half cup of Reggiano Parmesan and snarfed it down.
Try it now while tomatoes are peaking and you will be very happy.
But not as happy as Oliver.