Motto : Denn das Wort Schnitzel ist maskulin und braucht
im Nominativ Singular deswegen den Artikel der.
Above : adult lizard sunning on a rock.
Above : view from my living room (carefully selected to include no tits ; don't you love me long time ?)
Below : and that, in the tisdance, is the city.
Above, the meeting of the tiny baby geckos. You know, like Fna once was, and thence made, in turn once being and then making, uninterruptedly until this very day (though seeing how they live four - five years, the little guy might conceivably even still be around!). We also have a friendly locust that's lost a leg in locust war, who visited us once and thence serenades us with his half-locust song, rubbing just one leg and therefore missing half the notes -- but it's okay, we like it just as well (better, really) this way.
Below, in somewhat more detail, the little guy on the right.
Above : Bimbo's making Jägerschnitzelsi.
Below : I'm making Zwiebelschnitzel. This is an ancient Imperialii recipe, perhaps only preserved in the Transylvanian dominions of the Kaiserliche & Königliche Monarchie. It is not Zigeunerschnitzel, because it doesn't take tomato, or paprika (though it is occasionally corrupted with slices of Kapja peppers, though I do not indulge this).
It's not too hard to make, even in barbarian lands. First you slice and sauteeiii the onions, as seen above (I prefer the local reds, though traditionally sweet white is used -- but then again, those people never had to buy their onion in Costa Rica) in olive oil as opposed to animal fat.
Then you beat (as best you can) the thin slices of (here, prime buffalo steak ; there, whatever you can get your grubby paws on), sprinkling lemon thyme, oregano, majoram in that order. As the onion's ready you extinguish it in fine French wine (generally, white ; but in this case I tried the Beaujolais depictediv and I did not mind the results -- let no one say I am a staunch traditionalist closed off to innovation or the like.
Once extinguished you pile in the meat (curling it as you do, a fork works fine) and then let it simmer on moderate-low heat for an hour or two (if your meat needs more than two, do the world a favour and throw it out, preferably from some height on the head of your butcher ; the idea in any case is for the meat to be thoroughly defeated without however actually falling apart).
If served warm, it's warm ; if served cold it comes in its own aspic. I generally make a lot so there's ample leftovers, which can be sandwiched, introduced into a breakfast omlet, reinvented as minestrone or, I suppose, even made into 'Ndruppeche, Bolognese or whatever other ragu perversion you can come up with.
Above : it's hard to conceptualize the gigantesque immensity of this butterfly, which rather unfortunately was also quite skittish and didn't land anywhere near anything that'd make the scale apparent. Suffice it to say it could possibly carry away small children, and deflower virgins -- fortunately it is not thus inclined.
Below : Praying mantis praying for a ride on the Peshkesh bus to other places. Unfortunately its ticket wasn't in order so it got kicked off.
Above (as below) : solitary sandpiper, sad and lonely, out by itself, looking for perhaps a delicious morsel ?
I don't think it found anything, and so it had to light its matches one by one to keep itself dry.
Pisi-si face-un breton frumos la vene...
And with that, my dear chitlins, we're ready to say goodbye.
But remember now : stay in the fucking quarantine. For one thing, you belong in there. For the other thing, I really fucking enjoy a world finally relieved of your unpleasant, odorous, foul and unwelcome kind.
And wear those muzzles, too. Plebs don't belong pretending to have faces, you know ?
- Wiener style's veal, breaded, served with a slice of lemon ; Jägerschnitzel's venison or other game, flour only, no breacrumbs, served with thick mushroom demi-glace. [↩]
- You know, the Holy Roman Emperors, dukes of Austria etcetera. Those people. [↩]
- To sautee is not the same as caramelizing, though some people pretend they're making onion rings and just go wild with it (I have no substantial objections to this, I just don't do it that way myself). [↩]
- Fun fact : not all Beaujolais wines are reds, though indeed the scant Chardonay they turn out is not to be found in my bottle here. [↩]