Soup Opera 2
Making a Good Impression
by Lenny Klein
The day your marriage falls apart you may as well
apply for membership in the airport workers’ union, because from here on
you’re officially carting “baggage.”
Whether it’s a carry-on or a camp trunk, it’s yours, it’s onboard,
and it’s going where you go. I mention this for two reasons: 1) I’ve been
through a divorce, so I know of what I speak first hand. 2) Ditto for the woman
I’ve become very interested in. (Kathy. You met her in the previous “Soup
Opera.”) She also has an
eight-year-old daughter living with her and parents, dubious of Kathy’s taste
in men, who want to meet me. In other words, welcome to the baggage carousel of
Kathy International.
I
suppose that most nervous suitors would settle for a low-key dinner at a
restaurant to meet a beloved’s progenitors, but as yours truly feels most
confident wielding a ladle or other such culinary instrument, I decided to make
them dinner. But not just any dinner. Kathy’s family is Italian, and I sent
word though Kathy that I would cook an Italian repast like no other they had
ever tasted. It didn’t faze me that Kathy’s parents have spent a lifetime
cooking and enjoying Italian cuisine and that I, a Jew with pretensions to an
international gustatory flair, was unnecessarily putting extra pressure on
myself to make a good impression. It didn’t faze me, that is, until I stopped
to think about it. Then I realized, in the immortal words of Ralph Kramden:
I’ve got a BIIIGGGG MOUTH!
And just to add to the drama, I had blithely announced that my get-acquainted creation would be veal, a dish as close to Kathy’s father’s heart as the strains of Pavarotti’s Pagliacci. Oh well, it is from such rash premises that one really learns to meet a challenge. It was time to produce, or tuck my apron strings between my legs and declare myself unworthy. Fortunately, I come from good strong stock myself – chicken noodle, in fact. My people didn’t schlep through the dessert for 40 years without learning a trick or two on the way.
To begin with, I decided not to directly compete on Kathy’s home turf.
Veal it would be, but with a
3 lemons
6
veal scaloppini’s
1
lb. asparagus
Salt
and Freshly Ground Black Pepper
6
tbs. flour
olive
oil as needed for frying
2
tbs. Garlic, minced
2
red peppers, cut in 1/4" slices
Using
a paring knife cut off the zest of one lemon and slice thinly. Reserve.
Squeeze
the lemons into a bowl and marinate the veal in the juice for about 10 minutes.
Peel
each asparagus stalk with a vegetable peeler starting at the tip and ending at
the base. (See note below.) Cut off the bottom inch or so of the stalk until the
inside looks moist. Cut the spears into 2" pieces and set aside.
Remove
veal from marinade, salt and pepper lightly then dredge in flour. Heat a large sauté pan, add the veal and sauté in oil for 2 minutes per side, or until golden
brown. Remove from pan and
keep warm.
In
the same sauté pan, add the garlic and peppers (add a bit more oil if
necessary) and sauté for 2 minutes, scraping all the browned bits of flour into
the sauce. Add the asparagus and continue to cook for 2 minutes. Return the
lemon juice and lemon zest to the pan and simmer for 1 minute.
Place the veal on a serving dish, surround or top with the vegetables and
pour the sauce on top. Voila!
Serves
6.
Serve
with a simple side dish of pasta with garlic and oil, a green salad and plenty
of fresh Italian bread.
NOTE:
Peeling the asparagus, as with celery and broccoli, will make the remaining
vegetable sweeter to the taste
The upshot? Kathy’s mother asked for the recipe. Her father had seconds. Even her daughter lavished me with “it was good, bye,” before rushing off to watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Kathy says that her folks are still not sure about my long-range potential, but that I can cook for them any time. I suppose that’s a victory of sorts. And her father later sent me a CD of Pavarotti’s greatest hits. I consider this a tip – for handling his daughter’s baggage.
Hope you enjoyed!