Bob Dylan and Bivalve Mollusks

The fish mongers always look at me funny when I ask for just two scallops, but I was just making dinner for one. Seared Sea Scallops on Waldorf Slaw with Ginger Tamarind Sauce. My lady has a habit of always getting the one scallop with a grain of sand in it. I can hear her teeth crunch into it from across the table, on her first bite. She’s like Rapunzel. Wait, Cleopatra? Something about a lumpy bed.

The bigger the better. This is true for monster trucks, tax refunds and scallops. Forget those puny Bay scallops, I want to have to cut my scallop into smaller pieces just to fit it in my mouth. Giant, massive bivalve mollusks. I interviewed a scallop a few weeks back and he had a shocking answer to a relatively easy question: how would you like to die? “On a raft made of cast iron, set afire with clarified butter, drifting on the open sea”. It’s a true story. Bob Dylan told it to me in a hotel bar in Cleavland.

The slaw is a mash-up. Traditional cole slaw with a twist on the classic Waldorf: Red Cabbage, Napa Cabbage, Grated Carrots, Cilantro, Mayo, Apple Cider Vinegar, Honey, Candied Pecans and Sliced Apples. After I mix everything, and check for seasoning, I let it sit on the counter for awhile. The cabbage will release water and change the consistency. I fine tune it again before I plate it.

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2 replies on “Bob Dylan and Bivalve Mollusks”

  1. about your posting from a few days ago…about the branding in argentina…

    remember when i used to date the cowboy-landowner-banker? i used to go to the brandings. jeez-louise…you cannot imagine the event until you attend, because my friend…the smell is what will kill ya!! don’t be down wind!!! the burning fur and flesh is just brutal, then throw in moaning mom cows and the crying calves, plus the dust, the heat and the 8 inch antibiotic blood-covered syringe being thrown around…and that’s not all. then of course there is the little kid with the zip lock baggie of dust and blood covered bull testicles showing off his stash… but wait there is more…the cooking of said testicles on top of the branding furnace for the eatin’ of the down home rocky mountain oysters. brutal!

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