I don't think of myself as a foodie. I've never described a meal as an erotic experience. I don't get twittery about obscure ingredients - fleur de sel from the Skeleton Coast, Hungarian sea bass. I don't covet kitchen knives made by Inigo Montoya's father. I get nervous around linen table cloths, and feel comforted by red and white check plastic covered picnic tables. Beer over wine. And I don't even buy fancy beer that often any more. I drink Budweiser for chrissakes. But I do like food. A lot. And I have to admit, I've perused the food porn. For the articles. Not the real kinky stuff, mind you. No blast chillers or immersion boilers. And I don't do tantric recipes. Anything that takes more than an our of hands-0n is not gonna happen. I don't care how good it is.
I was looking at today's Washington Post food section (a Wednesday morning ritual), and I see this recipe. It had one of the forbidden items, so I nearly passed it over - white chocolate. I object to it on the grounds that it has no cocoa powder so it therefore is not chocolate. Call it something else, like cocoa butter blob. I still won't eat it. But at least you won't be lying to me.
But the white chocolate (patooie) was paired with one of my trigger words - carmelized. aaaggh. Got me. Say bacon, brown butter or carmelized and I'm almost certain to at least take a look. I'm kind of a tramp that way.
http://projects.washingtonpost.com/recipes/2009/08/05/caramelized-white-chocolate-ice-cream/
Dare I say, this recipe might be an erotic experience? And they suggest smoked sea salt as garnish. Freeeeaky. That is one naughty little recipe. Throw in some brown butter sauce and one of those Vosge bacon chocolate bars and you might have to peel me off the damn ceiling.
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