Sauteed garlic--much of it--and green tomatoes barely cooked. Warmed, really. With good ricotta. Red chiles.
I woke up needing it craving it wanting it lusting it.
I must go to the market. Only I know disaster to strike. I'm sure there are no green tomatoes at Jean Talon. I was just there yesterday. I waited too long. I'm a fool. A hungry hungry fool. I know nothing that will satisfy this craving other than this very thing. A body's frustrated desire is always a sad thing. When is Spring coming?