Laurie and I had our tenth anniversary last week, and we went out to one of our favorite neighborhood restaurants, Dinette. We had rabbit rillettes with celeriac slaw, French onion soup, and similar homey winter delights.
For her main course, Laurie ordered a gratin of campanelle pasta with sauteed cauliflower and pickled peppers. (I had agnolotti with pork and chard.) It was a hearty portion of pasta and vegetables with bechamel, topped with cheese and breadcrumbs and baked until crunchy on top.
I’m a big fan of sauteed cauliflower, or any cauliflower prepared well, so without asking permission I poked at Laurie’s dish with my fork. (This is as good a reason to stay married for ten years as any.) I withdrew what looked like a large piece of cauliflower and popped it into my mouth. It turned out to be a piece of pasta. I tried again, sure this time that I’d speared the brassica I was after. Pasta again. I don’t think I ever actually got a piece of cauliflower, but I got a good laugh out of it, at least.
Tonight I made some awesome Indian-style cauliflower, first dusted with turmeric and salt and pan-fried, then slow-simmered in a chile broth and sprinkled with black sesame seeds. Just for you, I included no pasta.
Is there a difference between black and white sesame seeds? Black ones definitely look cooler, but I’ve never tasted them side by side to see if they actually taste any different.
That sounds great, of course.