Everyone is worried about me because I’m lethargic. And why not? Don’t lions sleep all day in Africa and hunt at night? Not that I hunt, but it’s hotter here than a chili pepper, whatever that is, and I’ve found a great place under the couch where I am in the dark and cool and can sleep the day away. Mama went online and found that if I’m eating properly and poo-pooing properly, all is well, but 30-degree heat does not go well with lots of action.
In the kitchen where I am asked to get up on a ledge to eat my dry food (exercise, mama says, because I have no Annapurna here), I see mama making something really cool and appetizing and delicious because it has tuna in it and anchovies and I love both. First she puts a jar of tuna in the top of that machine that whizzes around, making my fur stand on end, but I wait it out, and then she puts some basil and capers and a couple of anchovies and then a couple of spoons of mayonnaise and fresh pepper and turns on the machine until everything is mixed; then she puts in a little chicken broth (you can bet I know what that is–she left some out last night in a little cup and was it there this morning? No way, rosé!) and a squeeze of lemon juice and voilá—tonnato sauce.
Then she gets just the right consistency, sort of like crêpe batter, thick and nice but not too thick, and then she gets the sauce nice and cold and then for dinner for her and papa (and for ME, I hope, I hope), she spreads it over thin-sliced, poached turkey or chicken breasts. They eat it on tomato slices, too, but I’m partial to those feathered creatures, as you can understand.
Sometimes she lets me push the ‘On’ button with my patty-paw but this time, it scares the bejesus out of me and I run like a crazed weasel out of the kitchen and back under the couch.
That was a close one, but boy, do I love mama’s easy recipes during Rome’s hot summers.
But mama also makes a mean gazpacho, or as she calls it, salmorejo, which is the version from Cordoba in Spain, she says.
She uses that same whizzer and puts in 2 cucumbers, peeled, 4 really ripe tomatoes, 1 small sweet onion, a tiny sliver of fresh garlic, a handful of toasted almonds, 1 crisp toast (the kind you buy already made in packages) or a slice of stale bread (no crusts), a few sprigs of cilantro and mint and a good splash of olive oil, the same kind she dribbles over my food. Taste it for salt and pepper or add a pinch of cayenne if you like a little spicey-ness. I can’t have those things because kitties react to strong spices so I stick with my little can of tuna.
Back to the couch for me. Cooking is exhausting…
