Go ahead and be patient if you like. But as soon as the tomato plants went into the ground last week I became mighty restless dreaming about the summer's first fresh tomato salad, which is still a good couple months away.
To make matters worse I had just schlepped home the perfect accompaniment to such a salad, these friselle from an Arthur Avenue baker in the Bronx.
And so I headed over to the store, grabbed the best-looking on-the-vine tomatoes that I could find, chopped them up with a little red onion, balsamic, olive oil, basil, salt and pepper, and had at it.
Patience is an overrated virtue.
Yeah but your tomatoes look like tomatoes. I'll buy them from the store when they start resembling a real one.
ReplyDeleteDrool
ReplyDeletePam
That so-called friselle (what's that, French?) looks a lot like what we New Yorkers call a bagel. Where's the cream cheese and lox?
ReplyDelete"We" New Yorkers, Tommy?
ReplyDeleteSeriously?
"Tommy" (geez, you guys; do I have to worry about you two?), raises an important point IMHO, whether he was joshing or not. Fact is, my understanding of friselle is as a hard biscuit--baked but not toasted--about 2 x 2 by 4 inches that we'd soak in hot water and then laden with spicy calamari or scungilli marinara. Yet, I've seen others refer to these holie thing-a-ma-jigs you're showing as friselle. Who's right? We need a ruling here. But I'm not sure you two characters have appropriate standing. Show me other sources, please.
ReplyDeleteA ruling?
ReplyDeleteFred. Baby.
Please.