It’s not love at first sight.
That moment when you lay your eyes on the perfect jewel. It’s ruby red and smooth underneath the pads of your fingers. Marvelous.
A simply marvelous greenhouse tomato, full and firm in the palm of your hands.
It’s not quite lust when you notice it. But you can’t tear your eyes away from the creamy whiteness of it, wrapped tight in its bindings, begging to be freed, to deliver to you the unadulterated taste of fresh mozzarella cheese.
Yes, it’s fun to mess around with flavor profiles, have a fling here, toss around with this there. But when the chefs you see on television emphasize the sheer magic that is fresh, untampered ingredients, they’re definitely onto something.
A shame, though, that the industrialized world is making them hard to find. And yes, they do come at a premium.
In spite of inconveniences, sometimes only they can do the job. If you set it up right and showcase the flavors of the ingredients, you get something even better than a dish with a name that is a whole sentence within itself, with half the words being unpronounceable.
D’you see that? That is some beautiful shit right there – plump greenhouse tomatoes and mozzarella, sprinkled with some salt and pepper and dried herbs, drizzled with olive oil, and finished with some basil. Great eaten just like that.
For shits and giggles, I put them, along with some pesto, onto some paleo pizza crust made with cauliflower, almond meal, and an egg to bind it all together. Er, at least it was supposed to be shits and giggles, but Christ almighty was making it labor intensive, trying to squeeze out the water from the cauliflower.
Worth it? Debatable, knowing that sometimes the parts of the sum is better than the sum of the parts.