When I was little, I went on a trip to Portugal to visit my grandparents, who were wintering in the Algarve. I got given a nickname over there, due to my general love of pasta: Senhorita Macaroni.
I've kept that taste for noodles into adulthood. And then I was taken to The Bite, during my stint on Martha's Vineyard for Viable Paradise. Kidnapped, really. And my tormentors force-fed me deep-fried macaroni & cheese.
I'm ashamed to admit it. I blame Stockholm Syndrome. I partook. And it was fine, oh so fine. More than fine. It's probably one of the more dangerous substances known to mankind. But it was OK, I told myself. How often will I be back to Martha's Vineyard? One taste. One taste won't hurt me.
Except now I find it not 20 km from me in Sidney, BC, from the pushers known as Fish on Fifth. No problem. There's a large body of water in the way. I only get to Sidney 3 or 4 times a year.
But I can't escape the deep-fried mac & cheese mob. Fish on Fifth now has an outlet on Pender Island: Fish on Pender. Does the "it followed me home" excuse exonerate me?
I'm also told the "best" deep-fried mac & cheese comes from the cheese factory on Waikiki. Maybe I should set myself up as the judge of what's "best".
I sense a future trip to Waikiki to sample and critique the warez. After all, Senhorita Macaroni knows her pasta.
Deep fried mac and cheese!
I am not letting my husband near this post. I can spot a decadent pasta from here. LOL.
Oh, but I can see why it's tempting. I hope I never find such a pasta nearby.
They need rehab for this stuff.
The Bite, eh? I may have to try that out during my own "stint on Martha's Vineyard"...
Deep-fried everything. Deep-fried everything. Be prepared for artery shrinkage.
Hah. Maybe I'll have my cholesterol tested BEFORE VP rather than after...