{"id":322,"date":"2013-06-23T03:31:00","date_gmt":"2013-06-23T03:31:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/elitemporaryblog.wordpress.com\/2013\/06\/23\/told-you-so"},"modified":"2015-12-15T19:25:16","modified_gmt":"2015-12-16T00:25:16","slug":"told-you-so","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/orangette.net\/2013\/06\/told-you-so\/","title":{"rendered":"Told you so"},"content":{"rendered":"

Every so often, I encounter a recipe that makes me want to forgo the usual niceties of a post – the introduction, the story, the conclusion, the delicate foreplay\u00a0–\u00a0because that would only slow you down, when what you should really do is grab your shoes and make a list and run to the grocery store and throw some money at the cashier and run back home and make this immediately and I mean it, go<\/i>,\u00a0right now<\/i>, DO IT<\/i>.<\/p>\n

One such recipe is\u00a0Conchiglie with Yogurt, Peas, and Chile, from the stunning book\u00a0Jerusalem<\/a><\/i>, by Yotam Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi. Even June is all over it.<\/p>\n

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The only problem is that I made it for a late dinner a few nights ago, when the sun was already well into setting – which is really and truly very late, here in my northern city – and it was too dark to take a picture. Today I tried to take a picture of the photograph in the cookbook, but that didn\u2019t pan out either.<\/p>\n

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(Yeah, yeah, my child owns a pair of elastic-waist\u00a0jeggings<\/a>. \u00a0In my defense, they were hand-me-downs.)<\/p>\n

In any case, you can picture it yourself. First, you zizz some Greek yogurt, olive oil, peas, and garlic in a food processor until the mixture is an even shade of pale green. Then you heat a pot of water and boil some pasta in it, and while that\u2019s going, you warm some pine nuts and chile flakes in a skillet filmed with olive oil until the nuts are golden and the oil is red, and you also heat some more peas in a little bowl of water scooped from the pasta pot. \u00a0When the pasta is ready, you drain it and fold it together with the yogurt sauce, the now-warm peas, some torn basil leaves, and some crumbled feta. \u00a0The hot pasta heats and loosens the sauce, and the overall effect is creamy but not heavy in the least, bright where you hit a basil leaf or a pea, salty where you hit a lump of feta. You scoop it into a bowl, spoon over some pine nuts and the chile oil, which brings that kind of low, creeping heat that makes your lips tingle, and as I scraped my bowl and went back to the kitchen for seconds, I decided it was the best thing I\u2019ve made in a long, long time. (The best savory thing, I should clarify. Nothing compares to cake. Who do you think I am?)<\/p>\n

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Yesterday afternoon, June and I went to our friend\u00a0Lecia<\/a>\u2019s house for a visit and an early dinner, and while we were sitting around on the floor, talking and catching up and watching June torment the family cats, Lecia mentioned that, the previous night, she\u2019d\u00a0made what she thought might be the best pasta she\u2019d ever had.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt has yogurt, and peas. I think you\u2019d like it,\u201d she said.\u00a0\u201cHave you heard of the book Jerusalem<\/i>?\u201d\u00a0(!!!)<\/p>\n

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I told you so.<\/p>\n\n

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Recipe<\/div>\n

Pasta with Yogurt, Peas, and Chile<\/h2>\n

Adapted slightly from Jerusalem, by Yotam Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi<\/h3> \n \n <\/header>\n\n
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