This little recipe goes out to my Mama.
She came to visit me a few months back, and we set out one weekend evening for a very girly night of what we thought would be hors d’oeuvres, wine and art galleries followed by an elegant steak-ish dinner.
Our gallery walk turned into a wild goose-chase in uncomfortable shoes, only to find a few sparse galleries pocketed with circles of chubby old men smoking cigars and a single woman with waist-length hair who claimed in her artist’s statement to be attempting to paint the very condition of human kind.
That was the turning point.
It was time for a stiff cocktail and some seared red meat.
We parked our buttocks at the high bar of one of our favorite steak houses.
We charmed the hostess into refusing to seat anyone in the next two seats so we could feel like we weren’t sitting at the bar with, umm, everyone else at the bar.
And before our food even arrived, (which, strangely, included more tomatoes, shrimp, and crab than steak,) we dipped into some sort of heavenly little white bean concoction that came with our bread.
It was delicious.
I have no idea what it was called.
I was too tired to even ask.
But I tried to recreate something similar here.
You could eat it like a salad over arugula, or baby spinach, or even good ‘ol iceberg if you please.
But I promise you – it’s great with a fat slab of toasted artisan bread too.