I am ashamed to have a confession to make, that I…
Well, not that I don’t eat fruits. I do eat them, but only a very select few, those kinds that fruit-lovers wouldn’t even call Fruits. Like apples, pears, watermelon and only truly sweet and seedless clementines and grapes. Lame, I know. But if it’s any consolation to myself, I’d eat any fruit if it’s cooked, or completely shrivelled, like a raisin.
No wait, any fruit except BANANA.
Back to the point: COOKED PINEAPPLES. Have you ever had them grilled, right next to your hunk of steak on the barbecue? Lush, I tell you, LUSH!
With that in mind yesterday, we made…
Making sure to get the pineapple chunks slightly charred, the sweet citric caramelisation of the little nuggets of gold sang beautifully with the crispy morsels of boned and cubed chicken thigh. Not forgetting the mandatory crunch of broccoli sprouts, and umami of oregano buttered tomatoes, this was like a Hawaiian Pizza!
Without the salty pepperoni. (Not saying salty pepperoni is a bad thing!)
And without the bread.
Instead, with spaghetti.
Cooked on the stove, not in the oven.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t like a Hawaiian Pizza. Nonetheless, COOKED PINEAPPLE!