To honor the Japanese Women’s World Cup team’s victory over the U.S., I bought myself two big-ass cans of Sapporo, congratulated the staff of the izakayain my building, and made a “spur-of-the-moment”, completely made-up, big-ass pot of pasta for dinner. The logic being that a big-ass pot of pasta is kind of like a big-ass bowl of Ramen…(insert grimace and shrug). The only liabilities I faced were that it was getting late, and I was getting kinda drunk.
After enjoying the first of your big-ass cans of Saporro, and before things got out of hand, you’re gonna want to pickup a rotisserie chicken from the market. They’re, like, $8, cooked to perfection, and look sexy as hell. Then head home, after stopping to pick up more tasty, big-ass cans of Saporro, and shred the chicken into fairly big-ass bite-size pieces, being sure to season well with salt and pepper. (The reason want big-ass sized pieces, is because during the cooking, mixing and stirring, the pieces will break up a bit).
Setting the chicken aside, and commenting out-loud to no one, “You know, seriously, Saporro is really fucking awesome! And why does this all silver, tennis ball can-sized container feel so good in my hand?!” (I left that last bit hanging in the air as a rhetorical question since no one was here to offer an explanation of how the crafty R&D guys at Saporro came up with that can design. But whomever you are, Arigatō!), lay out your six scallions…
and chop up the lower half (starting with the white ends…which you’ve detached from the roots) into quarter-inch size pieces, and the upper halves into a finer mince. After that, and since you’re gonna want to get as much blade-work out of the way before opening the next big-ass can of Saporro (trust me on this), mince up 5 cloves of garlic
At this point, you’re gonna want to attend to a couple things: Bring a pot of water to a boil for your pasta (in last night’s case, I went with rigatoni); and turn to your Mac and say, out loud, “Wait. Why the fuck am I listening to Yngwie J. Malmsteen’s Rising Force!? …and more to the point, why do I even own any Yngwie J. Malmsteen’s Rising Force?! Great! Now she’s unleashed the fucking fury!!”). When you’ve finished putting on something that wasn’t written by a petulant, Swedish, Heavy Metal guitarist, you’ve got to ask yourself, “Olive oil or butter?”
(This was a tablespoon…which was followed by another tablespoon).
Over med to med-high heat melt the butter till it stops foaming, then throw in your scallions (the bigger pieces) and garlic. Stir throughout the cooking so the garlic doesn’t burn, and grab your bottle of Vermouth
Pour in a few glugs (see: Jamie Fucking Oliver) of Vermouth, and cook until it’s mostly evaporated and you’ve got a thickened mess of butter, vegetables, and booze. At this point, especially if you’re still coping with the butter-guilt from earlier, open another big-ass beer and get over it.
This will help
Yeah. That’s a pint of heavy cream right there (I just laughed out loud when I remembered that at this point, I was double-fisting Saporros and slices of a baguette spread with butter). Pour in the cream, raise the heat and simmer till it thickens. By now, your pasta water should be boiling, so go ahead and toss in your pasta. As the sauce tickens season w salt and pepper and a good teaspoon of dried thyme
Finally, when the sauce is thick and rich, you probably won’t be able to resist calling one of your idiot friends to say, “Dude, I am making the BEST FUCKING PASTA EVER. And seriously, WHY is Saporro SO good!?”, incorporate the chicken and stir to coat. Let simmer for 10 minutes or so, drain the pasta and toss together with the sauce. Garnish with the finely chopped scallions and a few hefty gratings of parm. You will probably be in that “between buzzed and drunk” happy place, so get ready to eat more than you should…or need to….but will want to.
- rotisserie chicken
- pint heavy cream
- bunch of scallions
- head of garlic
- pound of rigatoni
- dried thyme
- as many big-ass cans of Saporro as you can manage
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