Bruschetta, American Style

Everyone loves bruschetta, right? Crunchy bread with ample flavors of garlic and tomatoes and basil. The Italians have perfected it, and I am not at all inclined to mess with a formula that has had a successful run pretty much since Julius Caeser. Ok, so maybe I am. I can’t help myself. I’m calling my version.... bruschetta, American style.

What you need: all the things you normally need -- a good, crunchy bread. Personally, I like a fresh ciabatta, but, really, there are so many freshly baked loaves that will do. Plenty of fresh basil, several cloves of garlic, a package of grape tomatoes. (stay away from large tomatoes -- they get too mushy when you saute them.) add in some sliced up sun dried tomatoes, shallots, maybe two scallion, and -- for the American wrinkle -- get a package of chicken tenders and a ripe avocado.

To prepare: marinate your chicken in whatever prepared marinade you like. Truly, it hardly matters. In my case, I used Mrs. Dash’s Lemon Herb Peppercorn, but knock yourself out here. Use whatever you like. Saute the marinated chicken in a little olive oil. While the chicken is getting happy, chop your garlic cloves and shallots and place in a pan with some olive oil. Chop up your grape tomatoes and add those to the mix along with the chopped scallion and sundried tomatoes. Chop your basil and add to the saute mix. Cut the avocado into small squares.

When the chicken is almost fully cooked, remove the tenders from the pan and cut into small pieces. For maybe a minute or so, add the chicken to the saute mix of tomatoes, garlic, shallots, etc. Throw the whole mix into a large bowl and add in the chopped avocado. Cut your bread into thin slices and toast. When the toast is done, rub with a garlic clove and spread with a bit of olive oil. Top with the chicken, garlic, tomato mix piling it as high as you dare. If you're a cheesy kind of guy, feel free to sprinkle some shredded romano cheese over the this gorgeous creation. Understand that this will provide you with a messy dining experience, so don’t wear your Sunday finest when enjoying this.

Wine is a must with this. Amazing how either red or white will do the trick. You decide.

The French would say, “bon apetit.” I don’t know what the Italians would say.

Now I know why they call them fire ants

Because they hurt like hell, that’s why. We’ve just spent a kingly sum on fixing up the “estate.” Let’s just say, we spent enough to keep a small third world economy afloat for a bit. So, as you might imagine, when the landscaper encouraged us to give extra water to the newly planted trees, shrubs, and flowers, we were more than willing. And, mind you, this does not come naturally to us. Our idea of gardening is watching someone else do it. There is no Plan B. The trouble with gardening in the semi-tropics, as you have here, is that you have the constant company of scorching heat and humidity that can peel any man-made substance off any surface exposed to the atmosphere. Plus, there are the bugs. For example, the mosquitoes here are required to have drivers’ licenses. The palmetto bugs are so large they can be drafted to pull small carts, if you have that need. No one warned me about the fire ants though.

So there I was trying to be manly about ignoring the pothole sized mosquito bites I was actively collecting on my shins and back when I could not help but notice that my feet were on fire even though I couldn’t see the flames. I looked down to see a populous nation of black ants literally covering my feet. If it was human flesh they sought, they had hit the mother lode. The yelp I emitted got Mojo’s attention, although only for a moment as he turned over on the driveway to continue his mid-day snooze. I did what any fire department would do -- I hosed down my feet, but the burning would now have to run its course.

I mentioned this experience to the guys who were finishing up with the landscaping and their eyes and mine simultaneously gazed down at their feet: combat boots that would make Attila the Hun proud. Impenetrable.

I’m off to the shoe store.

Dinner Tonight (and, yes, I'm talking to you)

Here’s what you need: some shrimp, some red chili linguini (although, frankly, any pasta will do), a shallot, as many garlic cloves as your mate will tolerate, a scallion or two, white wine you like, the juice of maybe half a lemon, a nice handful of pine nuts, some fresh basil, olive oil, shredded romano cheese, and the obligatory freshly ground pepper.

Here’s what you do:

1) boil your shrimp erring perhaps on undercooking them a bit. Shouldn’t take more than a minute.
2) chop your shallot and garlic and saute in a bit of olive oil until they become translucent. When they do, add in a nice soaking of the white wine and allow the mixture to reduce. When reduced, add to this mixture some chopped scallion.
3) separately toast the pine nuts either dry or in a bit of olive oil. Be careful not to burn -- use a low heat.
4) cook your pasta. In the case of the chili linguini I used, it took 3 minutes. Drain the pasta.
5) If you haven't done it already, chop your basil leaves.
6) after you’ve shelled the cooked shrimp, add the shrimp to the saute mixture for maybe a minute. No more. Sprinkle liberally with the ground pepper. Add in the pasta and stir.
7) to this shrimp and pasta mix, add in the toasted pine nuts and chopped basil. Squeeze in the lemon juice, and, if you like, drizzle some more olive oil over the mix.
8) top the whole shebang with as much shredded romano cheese as you like. (Yes, yes, I know. Italians would frown and mumble not so subdued expletives at adding cheese to a seafood pasta dish, but folks this isn’t Italy.)

Be prepared to chow down on a multi-textured, tasty melange of flavors.

You got better plans?