No tomatoes, please

So, I went to The Shop yesterday to visit and troll the aisles of fine Italian goods for something truly utterly disgusting. And I might have found it. You’ll notice that this week’s abomination is a lovely canned wonder from the far reaches of…New Jersey, I guess? Probably Italy by way of New Jersey. It is bright yellow, with some sort tomato/fish-headed chef, which I guess is supposed to make me feel better about eating this? I dunno. What is this mystery canned item, you ask? Umm, the can says it is called Cuoco, and also that it is a “seasoning” for macaroni. With sardines! Huzzah!

According to the ingredient list, it has young fennel, sardines, raisins and salted sardine puree. So, two things I definitely hate (raisins and fennel), and one thing that I have not yet tried but know I will hate (sardines). I think my boss Josh made this for lunch one time in the shop. All I recall is that I came in for work one day (too late for lunch, thank god), and the entire store smelled like rotting ocean carcass. It must have been lent or something and he could only eat fish. “Fish.” And I remember gagging and going over to the stove, and seeing this, a gray paste, all dried out from sitting around for a while with some matted buccatini. And I thought I’d try it and see how disgusting it is for myself.

On top there seem to be some vague instructions to heat it in a pan with olive oil and mix it with buccatini, which is like really super thick spaghetti with a little hole in the middle. It’s entirely too cumbersome a pasta to actually eat, but that is what’s recommended, so I’ll go with it.

Even while opening the can, the grey oil seeps up through the newly cut opening between can and lid, and the fishy smell hits you right away. Then when you dump it out into the hot pan, it’s even fishier and greyer, dotted with gross plump raisins and huge chunks of sardine sprinkled throughout.

For the first time ever in my life, I was hoping the flavors of fennel and raisin would stand out, saving me from the oily hell that is the sardine flavor. I salted it generously, somehow hoping that it would be too salty to really taste the sardine, and as it cooked it started to smell slightly sweet and (almost) deliciously complex from the raisins and probably the fennel. This might not be too bad. But god of evil gods was I wrong.

As I put the pasta in the pan, it seemed to suck all moisture from the Cuoco, and I was just left with the horrible image that had been stuck in my brain from before: dry, matted pasta with grey chunks of dry nastiness spread throughout. I threw some of the cooking water in there, hoping it would become slightly unstuck, but, alas, it did not help.

I put some in a bowl and sprinkled some more olive oil on top and some cheese, hoping that the saltiness of the cheese would blot out some of the sardine flavor that I knew was coming. My dad helpfully joined in, I guess so we could have the shared painful experience, but he’ll eat anything and never say it’s bad, so, of course, he was nonplussed by it. I took that as a sort-of good sign, manned up and shoved some of the pasta in my mouth.

The first sensation was one of slight sweetness, and mostly just of the pasta that was in my mouth, and all I could think was, “Damnit, this is not that bad. Again.” Then the horrible, overwhelming flavor of fish fish fish hit me in the back of the throat like a ton of, I dunno, fishes. I couldn’t swallow, and my panicking mouth just kept sending messages to my brain to spit the crap out before it was forced to hit my stomach. Which I did, onto the floor. I was in such a panic that I completely missed my bowl and all of it plopped onto the floor, generally in the same state as it was before I ate it since I only got a few chews in before I freaked out.

My dog wouldn’t even eat it, and I’m pretty sure she eats her own poo. Or she would if she could. Eww.

So now my house smells like fish ass, and I just found out that there are buyers coming to look at our house in an hour and a half. Oops.

Okay, as I was trolling the Food Network’s web site for a sufficiently ridiculous turkey recipe, I found this, and I’m pretty sure it’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen:

In case you were wondering what heinous kind of food that could possibly be, it’s a pie. A goddamn apple pie. I can’t even fathom … I have no words. Just a little vomit in my mouth.

Not only does this recipe require TWENTY FOUR apples, you must stuff the apples into a bowl to sufficiently mold them into a gargantuan half-orb and then invert the whole mess onto the pie crust. Then it is covered with molten caramel and pecans. And then, I dunno, tossed into the gaping maw of a dragon? I mean, who the hell else could eat this but imaginary creatures that would normally swallow entire humans whole? So instead of making this, or really even further thinking about it, you should make a baked apple instead. Because you only eat one, and it is probably far more delicious anyway.

So, I dunno, take like, 4 apples and core them, except don’t core them all the way through. You want a hole in the apple, so you can stuff it with crap.

Now, any time I talk about apples, I’m talking Fuji apples. My family don’t do that whole red delicious bs. Fujis are in the grocery store, probably right next to your regular granny smiths, but they are super better. They’re really crisp, and amazingly sweet, and available year round. But if you can’t find those, use a Rome apple, or a Gala apple instead. There’s usually stickers on the apples, a helpful indicator of what kind it is, if you get confused.

So anywho, take the apples, and core them somehow (I would suggest a melon baller, but if you don’t know what is, you could use a knife to hack at it until there is a sufficient hole), and then throw them in a little pyrex baking dish. My mom used to stuff them with brown sugar, cinnamon, butter, and freakin red hots. I know it sounds crazy, but they were really good. They melted and melded with the brown sugar and the butter, and permeated the apple, and it was delicious. You can pretty much stuff them with whatever you want though. You could put some chopped pecans or walnuts in there, or add some raisins, or even dried cranberries would be delicious if you want a really fall-y feel. So, throw some water (or apple cider if you’re Martha Stewart) in the bottom of the pan so they don’t stick, and also because the brown sugar and butter kinda melts out and makes a yummy kinda sauce in the bottom of the pan. Bake them for about 25-30 minutes in a 350-degree oven, or until they are tender when you poke them with a knife. Serve with vanilla ice cream, enjoy, and don’t even look at that picture again.