How to: Attempt to cook saltimbocca alla Romana

If you date an Italian man, you’ll know of a few self-evident truths. You’ll always wonder why he only breakfasts on coffee, you’ll always wonder why he’s so sex obsessed and you’ll always wonder if you’re cooking the cuisine right.


Saltimbocca – “jumps in the mouth”. Veal escalopes and sage wrapped in prosciutto, fried in white wine.

After calzone, questionable doner kebabs,  cornetto ice creams, sponge cakes, scones, M&M cookies from tescos and enormous burgers, saltimbocca is his favourite dish and he had been banging on for years for me to make it. I never did, because veal is extortionate.

For his “homecoming meal” after our two months around Asia, I agreed to make it. 

Every step of the way was plagued with self-doubt and fear. I would never match up to Nonnina that was sure, but I was hoping to pass the moglie test.

As he stabbed his fork in, I stood over him like a Bake Off Contestant awaiting the dreaded “it was overworked. Alessio looked at me.

“Fucking great, baby”

Hallelu.

Saltimbocca alla romana from this recipe here.

Alessio refused to accept cooking wine was something you can get, so he bought a cheap white from Sainsburys. I also completely forgot the chicken broth so there’s also that.

You can serve it with polenta, pasta and veggies but Ale is an inauthentic Italian and just wanted it with bread. I served it with sliced sage roasted potatoes instead.

He enjoyed it, even without the chicken broth! Thank you to the Italian Chef for the recipe!

Jan/Feb Trashgirl Antics: South East Asia

Why did I take myself to South East Asia?

Well, why indeed.


When my partner Alessio kept suggesting it, I tabled it under “things he suggests that we will never do” alongside AirBnbing out our flat, inviting my brother for dinner and reverse cowgirl.

Then one afternoon, frustrated with my job and the absolute state that was the year 2016 I booked it. I was determined to have a better year next year, give myself something to look forward to and something that would get me through the pain of working retail.

After six months of planning, we found ourselves playing pacman on a flight to Oman. As an FYI, Oman is extortionate. It costed us $40 for a taxi and we weren’t even mugged. True daylight robbery. 

 

We landed in Bangkok and took ourselves north to Chiang Mai to gossip and kiki with monks. Somnang made me realise my own spiritual irrelavance.


In Laos we met great people (s/o to the guy who was keen to get drinks with me until he realised I wasn’t a ‘solo female traveller’) and played at the river beaches (s/o to the travel blogger who came for me wearing this “far too revealing outfit”… at the beach)

Forgive me, I left my burkini at home


We spent time in Koh Kut, my trip highlight. Not just for the dirty resort names…


But that riding around a small paradise island on the back of Ale’s motorbike, finding small restaurants, juice shops and abandoned beaches made me happier than I had been in months


In Myanmar I realised this was where my fanbase had been my whole life


Cambodia helped me live my tomb raider fantasy and we spent more time eating and drinking juice on the beach


And then Vietnam, hands down my favourite place for food. And pretending to woke friends back home you’re down for the cause. Virtue signalling is the new activism, ya know?


For more details, head to my travel blog which people are, to my surprise, actually reading. 

That’s what I did with my out of office time, 2017. I quit my job for it, so now I’m undergoing the demoralising search for a new job.

Always, 

Trash xx