Oof. That hurt. I don’t know of anyone who was expecting that kind of pain from the last match. Somehow, the chickens missed it. Perhaps their powers were clouded by the residual love for Adrian and the Aztex. Perhaps it was their new ethically sourced, pelleted feed that threw them off. Regardless, they laid the proverbial egg. Speaking of eggs, if anyone was wondering, my favorite application of eggs is a nice spaghetti carbonara, made with good guanciale and fresh eggs, topped with high quality Pecorino Romano and Parmigiano Reggiano cheeses. Of course, one can’t forget to add copious amounts of freshly ground pepper. It’s carbonara, after all. Some insist on a nice, acidic wine in the sauce, others don’t. I myself float between these two camps.
Marcella Hazan is my guiding star on Italian cookery and her recipes never miss. If you’re in need of a great cookbook, check this one out.
I seem to have gone off-piste.
I was in pain. I turned to Wolfie, pining for some of her positivity. She beckoned me to join her in the compound’s sitting room. It’s a nice room. There’s a striking zebra print rug in there that Turd found that really, well,
Wolfie gestured that I sit in front of our Costco TV that had previously been a floor model. (Slan always insists on buying appliances discounted because they have been on display so that he can get “my money’s worth.”) With me assuming a near supine position, Wolfie began playing her favorite Rocky movie, Rocky III. We got to this scene:
She stops it. Plays it repeatedly. Ad nauseam. I’m embarrassed to say I shouted at my beloved bird. But, I just couldn’t take seeing that scene over and over and over again.
Wolfie got the message and put on another movie. Knowing I love Only Murders in the Building, she put on a classic Steve Martin flick that I hadn’t seen in ages: Little Shop of Horrors. I had forgotten how great Bill Murray and Mr. Steve Martin work together. Such chemistry!
We then broke for dinner and, yes, I made carbonara.
Returning to the sitting room, Wolfie and I watched one more movie. We went dark this time. Not funny dark, like Steve Martin. Moody, Robert Pattinson dark.
I began to get worried. Wolfie was clearly down. I asked her if she was still suffering from the defeat. She shook her head no. I implored her, begged her, entreated for hours that she tell me the source of her misery. Finally, at 2:48 am, I asked, “Is this about El FC’s upcoming match?”
She hopped three times to the left and then only one hesitating step to the right.
Dear God.
El FC 1-3 We Have Amazing Weather, Beautiful Beaches, Gorgeous People, and MLS Salary Rules Don’t Apply to Us
Louis de Ludovico
Viewing McKalla as his personal empire, Louis lives for the beautiful game. And food. Especially flamingo tongues. A chicken savant.
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