Hello, boys and girls!
Welcome to cooking with Varun! Back in 2011, when I was living in Antrim, Northern Ireland, I was discovering the joys of being a housekeeper. Living with Big-Talking-UPite, and Beer-Chugging-Goan, it wasn't hard to fit myself into the role, since they were both too lazy to clean up after themselves. At all. Ever. Not once. Nada. But to be a good housekeeper, I first had to get the necessary equipment. So we dialled the local taxi service, commissioned a cab, and 15 minutes later, rolled into the parking lot of the local ASDA looking like a poor man's <insert generic, moderately successful 3 member boy band name here>, albeit a little more homeless, since Big-Talking-UPite refused to shower on weekends (or most other days), and Beer-Chugging-Goan was still half asleep. We walked into the store, headed to the cleaning products aisle, carefully looked at each of the vacuum cleaners on display, and after painstakingly taking into account the weight, the suction, the number of attachments, the width of the head vs. the width of our stairs, the kind of surfaces they would work best on, we bought the cheapest one. It was a little white thing, that cost us 20 quid, and having paired it with a mop, and floor cleaners, we rolled back home.
Over the next few weeks, our vacuum cleaner and I spent some wonderful hours together. Every Sunday, I would wake up before my lazy man children, put my headphones on, crank the volume up on my iPod, and shimmy and shake and make the place spotless. Starting downstairs, in the kitchen, moving to the living room, and then finally up the stairs to the bedrooms. It was the kind of stuff you'd put in a video montage, complete with slow-mo running, and harps playing in the background. Things were going swell, so you can imagine my surprise when one morning, my baby just wouldn't suck the crumbs off the kitchen floor. I swapped the heads, shook it around, but to no avail. As I sat despondent, with my head in my hands, Big-Talking-UPite plodded down the stairs and after a deep swig of his prune juice, enquired about what was making me so very glum. As I described to him the plight of my beloved, and how it wouldn't suck any more, he picked it up, popped it open and informed me that there was nothing wrong, the bag was just full. Relief washed over me in waves (like the ocean on a warm summer's day), and he scooped out the full bag, and replaced it with a fresh one. I lovingly picked my baby up and the video montage resumed, this time with Big-Talking-UPite's face as a shining sun in the top corner, not unlike the baby on the very disturbing Teletubbies show.
Speaking of things that don't suck, this recipe doesn't either, and is really very simple and makes for an excellent appetizer.
Over the next few weeks, our vacuum cleaner and I spent some wonderful hours together. Every Sunday, I would wake up before my lazy man children, put my headphones on, crank the volume up on my iPod, and shimmy and shake and make the place spotless. Starting downstairs, in the kitchen, moving to the living room, and then finally up the stairs to the bedrooms. It was the kind of stuff you'd put in a video montage, complete with slow-mo running, and harps playing in the background. Things were going swell, so you can imagine my surprise when one morning, my baby just wouldn't suck the crumbs off the kitchen floor. I swapped the heads, shook it around, but to no avail. As I sat despondent, with my head in my hands, Big-Talking-UPite plodded down the stairs and after a deep swig of his prune juice, enquired about what was making me so very glum. As I described to him the plight of my beloved, and how it wouldn't suck any more, he picked it up, popped it open and informed me that there was nothing wrong, the bag was just full. Relief washed over me in waves (like the ocean on a warm summer's day), and he scooped out the full bag, and replaced it with a fresh one. I lovingly picked my baby up and the video montage resumed, this time with Big-Talking-UPite's face as a shining sun in the top corner, not unlike the baby on the very disturbing Teletubbies show.
Speaking of things that don't suck, this recipe doesn't either, and is really very simple and makes for an excellent appetizer.
For my Cheesy Stuffed Mushrooms, you will need the following:
Mushrooms | 12 big |
Parmesan | 200 gms. |
Garlic | 5-8 cloves |
Spring onions | 2 |
Salt | to taste |
Pepper | to taste |
Red pepper powder | to taste |
Oil |
Prep:
- Separate the stalks from the mushrooms and hollow out the heads.
- Mince the mushroom stalks.
- Mince the garlic.
- Grate the parmesan.
- Chop up the spring onion greens.
- Grab a bowl.
- Plonk in the chopped stalks.
- Pop in the garlic.
- Dump in the parmesan. (I usually throw in a couple more melty types depending on what's in the fridge. Usually cheddar or cream cheese.)
- Sprinkle in some red pepper powder.
- Add salt and pepper.
- Mix.
Method:
- Grab a mushroom in your left hand. (Or right hand if you're left handed.)
- Grab a spoon in the other.
- Spoon up the stalk-cheese mixture.
- Fill in the mushroom heads.
- Repeat until they are all full.
- Turn on the gas.
- Bung a pan on.
- Splash in some oil.
- Count to 10.
- Put the mushrooms in (stuffing side up).
- Pop a lid on.
- Cook for ~10 minutes until done. (You see the cheese begin to bubble.)
- Take the lid off.
- Turn off the gas.
- Garnish with spring onion greens.
- Serve.
- Stuff face.
- Bask in the glory of your successfully executed dish.
Tip: You could try and cover the stuffing with some mozzarella. That'll keep the stuffing from oozing out and will make it cheesier. You can also bake the mushrooms in a fan assisted oven at 180 degrees for ~20 mins.
And remember, overeating is a myth. A full tummy is a happy tummy!
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