quickie(?) luncheon

In trying to get rid of a huge pile of fusilli from the other day, I'd bought more salsiccia (made next door in Hanam City, the city I walk to periodically!) and red sauce with the plan of resigning myself to a carby meal along with my boss and Korean coworker. I grated my leftover Parmigiano and Pecorino, bought some tomatoes, basil, and mozzarella for caprese, then brought all the ingredients to work for what I'd hoped would be a quick-to-prep meal, but which turned out to require about as much prep as any other luncheon I've ever prepped for the office. And it occurs to me that, despite having told everyone I probably wouldn't be doing any more monthly meals, what with both a stroke and a heart attack in my history, here I am, still making them. And I'll be doing a Thanksgiving meal, too.

Here's a short photo essay of how today went.

sausage, cooked; bottled sauce, mixed in (yes, the fat was drained out first)

caprese around the edge with protein in the form of tuna in the middle; missing: quail eggs

the pasta, reheated with hot water from our dispenser

the grated Italian cheeses

My Korean coworker loved the food but held back a bit on the cheese because, as my boss conjectured, he probably wanted pickles or something to go along with the meal and cut through the fattiness. This is why "Italian" food in Korean is often served with pickles, which Koreans see as a Western form of kimchi. Italians are, of course, nonplussed by this bizarre behavior, but what are you gonna do? Koreans who live in Europe or Italian-American places in the States know better, then they come back to Korea and see the ridiculousness with fresh eyes. What, you need pickles? But again, what're you gonna do? It simply is what it is. From one perspective, it's an intercultural misinterpretation; from another perspective, it's how to solve a practical problem (cutting through fat). Besides, Asians can accuse Italians of ruining pasta by undercooking it (al dente).

Below: I found this new item in the nearby convenience store—some sort of chocolate-pistachio thing that I thought tasted awesome. It was expensive, too, at W7000 per packet.* But the chocolate was unwontedly thick and rich, definitely not a Korean-made product at all. I can't have this sort of thing but once in a blue moon. But damn, it was good. The base is kadayif; learn more here.

Here's my bowl of fusilli, sauce, and cheese:

Here's the caprese and tuna; looks ugly but tastes awesome. And caprese-plus-tuna is pretty keto as long as the balsamic is only balsamic and not some store-bought "balsamic dressing":

A good meal, in all. I spent so much time prepping it that I didn't get much actual work or personal blogging done, so I'm here late at the office, finishing up a workbook chapter that needs to be proofread. Home soon, then I need to fast for two days to get back on track. It no longer feels that good to eat a lot of carbs; I get the jones for carbs, yes, but if I go off the chain and eat too much, I pay for it first in terms of how I feel all over, then there's the specific neuropathy in my feet, and if I'm unlucky, other body parts (not my heart so far, thank Jeebus) will chime in. Sucks to be in this condition, but here we are. This is life from now until the grave. Food used to be more fun. Now, it's trying to kill me.

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*When I'd bought the packets, there'd been a tag saying "W1600," but when the candy got rung up with some other stuff, the total came to over W24,000. When I asked the cashier why everything was so expensive, he pointed at the kadayif candy and said that one of those was W7000. I said I'd seen a tag for W1600, so together, we went over to the shelf and checked. Sure enough: W1600. The guy took the tag off—it had indeed been a mistake—but he didn't give me the candy for the price on the sticker. Well, expensiveness can be a good de-motivator for buying more of a bad-for-you thing.