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Stew troglodyte

For Valentine's Day I gave my boyfriend a meat grinder.

It's nice to love someone like my Ken. is a solid, reliable help at home, and above all an instruction manual, which greatly facilitates the understanding of its inner and outer workings. It has a lot of accessories and is also pricey to see. And when not in use, you can turn off.

We immediately opened the meat grinder attachment inventing a dish that might appear to be the most unromantic, but I'm very satisfied with his performance, and ultimately that's what counts, right?

stew of beans and spicy lamb meatballs

(warning: this is a recipe for troglodytes, not for ladies).

The recipe for meatballs is that of Kofta failing mint and forming small balls. Or:

• 300 g leg of lamb ground twice, and on bone
• a heaping tablespoon of Pimenta Syria *
• the grated rind of half a lemon half
• small red onion, grated
• teaspoon di harissa

* Pimenta Siria

Si pestano in un mortaio pepe nero e bianco, cannella, chiodi di garofano, semi di cumino, anice stellato e noce moscata fino a ridurre il tutto in polvere. Occhio al chiodo di garofano che è forte; la nota più evidente dovrebbe essere quella del cumino.

• 250 gr fagioli rossi già ammollati e lessati
• 1/2 cipolla
• olio extravergine
• peperoncino
• un cucchiaio di concentrato di pomodoro

Soffriggere la cipolla in una casseruola dal fondo heavy, with oil and chilli. Fry briefly in the bottom of the meatballs and the bone of the lamb.

Add the beans with their cooking liquid and tomato paste. Salt cautiously. Cook on low heat, covered, for about two hours, adding a little water occasionally, and season with salt and pepper if necessary. After the first hour break bones, get the bone and put it back in the pot. Give a soft fabulous stew.

Serve with boiled basmati rice or with the now mythical Iranian pie.

consume considerable amounts grunting and immediately fall on a bearskin next fire and sleep for at least 16 hours straight. Or what's left of winter.

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Universal Love


This morning, I passt two shops in front of the flowers. Full of men. All in a row to take a nice pink for their wife, their girlfriend or their daughter or their mother. Men of all ages, in suits and overalls. All in a row. Who is the expert and start listing all the meanings of flowers and roses of various colors, others allow themselves to advise the florist, who prefer a beautiful sunflower, or an orchid. As I looked curiously into the store came running around a gas station, certainly had little time for lunch and saw the whole row is in a panic. I melted my heart! Belliniiiii! Then I think: but my father if he will be remembered, at least one flower to her mother? What do I do? I take him? But confident I get home, though ready to ask her and if escape from the nearest florist. Father's wry smile, "I've got ..." and surprisingly ".. for you too!" OOooOoooOhHH My rose is blue, not a specific meaning, the father's response has simply been "eh red mica I'm not going to take." Right. I still sorrsone in the face ..