Almost an inevitability after yesterday’s breakfast — so, so close to being… And being Independence day and all, it seemed appropriate: As, the French were instrumental, influential here, and the language is spoken in the land of this meal’s origin. The Dears are reverberatin’, too.
Beyond the self evident: Well bronzed onions, loads of garlic, little salt, cayenne and Tofutti. And a splash of vinegar…
Intent or coincidence that the Azul taco stand popped up during the Kahlo/Riviera run? The question brought temptation greater than our brawny lads could resist:
As we meandered through the gallery’s halls in search of the tantalizing tacos and considering the proposition, it was amusedly supposed that Pedro Americo’s work must be near as we passed Café Dia.
This two foot menace got caught red handed after getting a tooth caught as he devoured his plunder!
How cool would it be to have one of these?
An ostensibly Brazilian variation on the chicken pot pie, though poulty-less, subbing fervido cerebros and the remains of tempeh.
The crust is absurdly rich and should probably have been rolled to half the thickness that it was. The twist to this, is that tomato paste is added to the gravy, and the filling included hearts of palm and black olives — a tiny tamper, yet notable departure from just another pot pie.