big dirt garden

The planets must have been completely out of alignment for New Years Day 2012. Something was off indeed. I continually dropped shit that day. Crazy people were driving as if they were blind. There was a 48-hour span of weirdness that simply cannot be explained.

New Years Eve was spent cooking what was to be a sublime Lamb Chili with Chickpeas and Cucumber Raita. The plan for the next day was to go to the Mediterranean, if only via the dining table. Lamb Chili, Naan, and a beautiful Orange Tart were on the menu.

The Lamb Chili turned out great. However, with each taste-testing bite, I found bits and pieces of bone. Yes, bone. That is all it could have been. I cooked the chili the requisite amount of time, approximately 2 1/2 hours. By then, all traces of garlic, ginger, etc. would have been as soft as… well you get the idea. Hell, a fingernail cooked that long would have complied. But every bite ended with a disturbing, potentially tooth-splitting crunch. The guy in charge of lamb grinding must have missed a huge chunk of bone. But I can’t blame him. His ch’i was off just like everyone else. Unfortunately, I had to toss the chili and make something else.

As I sat down to write this post, I flipped open Dorie Greenspan’s newest book, Around my French Table searching for the Orange-Almond Tart that I made. Upon closer inspection of the full-page image showing her tart I spotted something that made my heart sink. Her tart had a crust. Hmm… My tart had no crust. I knew something was off when I tried to serve it. The tart stuck to the tart pan and came out in gooey chunks. I forgot the crust. Good grief. This sudden revelation makes me want to throw something. Stupid tart.

Oh, but you can’t expect to wield supreme executive power just because some watery tart threw a sword at you!

-Dennis the anarcho-syndicalist peasant
Monty Phython and the Holy Grail

So be ye not so stupid. Make the crust. The tart filling is delicious. With a crust, it would have been perfection.