Well, I've had a bit of bourbon, and Zelda is just all over me making a blog post tonight. It sure was a delicious measure of bourbon.
I'm honestly pretty burnt out, what with the studying and the attempting to study and the failing to study effectively.
I could talk to you about some delicious cheesecake that I made. (What, you thought that I didn't bake anymore? You sassy dickwaffles. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I was just a bit upset by you implying that I don't bake anymore. Can't you just believe me when I say things like this? I know that I haven't been blogging every day, but that's no reason for us to grow apart like this, and it's certainly no reason for you to say such hurtful things. I mean, people liked this. They said things like, "Rob. This is really good. ROB. THIS IS REALLY GOOD." You may mock, but it was delicious.)
But no. We're going to talk about a different kind of deliciousness. This is the sort of deliciousness that vaguely resembles poop. But it's not. Because, see, it's deliciousness.
I am, of course, talking about cevapi.
"What is this so called "cevapi?'" you may ask.
It was April of 2011 (not "oh-eleven," because that makes no sense). I was on a whirlwind tour of the Balkans with my friend who we'll call Mateo for similarly convoluted reasons as I often use. Anyway, we're chilling out in Sarajevo.
So night is starting to fall (really, since it's April in the northern hemisphere, it's really more a light dusk), and we're starting to get hungry. We quickly realize that there is just nothing on the downstream side of town. I mean, maybe there's a McDonald's or something, but why would you do that? You're in THE FREAKING BALKANS, so WHY WOULD YOU GO EAT AT A MCDONALD'S?
Well, maybe because you don't know of any Balkan cuisine. Maybe you were just going there because, hey, it's someplace you wouldn't go to normally, and it seems like it'll be pretty cheap. Maybe you wren't thinking about what you'd eat out there. YOU JUST DIDN'T KNOW. YOU DIDN'T THINK THE FOOD IN BELGRADE WOULD BE SO BAD (except for that one place, which was pretty great, but I don't recall whether or not we're there yet. Maybe we were. It's a tough call, because it's been a while).
And then you're wandering around the historic Muslim quarter, and you find this little place. It looks like it could be a hollowed out Subway or some such. But it's got this stuff called cevapi, and you've heard decent things. Maybe you'll give it a shot.
Around this time, your arteries are weakly protesting, because, well. Look at this.
That's beef/lamb sausage (because you can't have pork or some such). Sorry. That's not entirely accurate. Using a singular? Ha. You wish. There are, oh, 20ish in that picture.
Yeah. 20 sausages. In a pita. With sautéed onions. And that white stuff? They call it "kajmak." It's delicious. What's that? You want to know how to make it?
Well, here's a recipe I found earlier today for the very kajmak.
1 pint heavy cream
You sassy temptress, you. Let's get you out of that glass and into my liver. |
I could talk to you about some delicious cheesecake that I made. (What, you thought that I didn't bake anymore? You sassy dickwaffles. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I was just a bit upset by you implying that I don't bake anymore. Can't you just believe me when I say things like this? I know that I haven't been blogging every day, but that's no reason for us to grow apart like this, and it's certainly no reason for you to say such hurtful things. I mean, people liked this. They said things like, "Rob. This is really good. ROB. THIS IS REALLY GOOD." You may mock, but it was delicious.)
Basically, this. Emma Stone, you sassy temptress, you. Let's get you out of that glass and into my liver. On second thought, let's not. That'd probably cause some pretty serious hemorrhage. |
I am, of course, talking about cevapi.
NO. If there's not trouble, I have no use for River City. |
It was April of 2011 (not "oh-eleven," because that makes no sense). I was on a whirlwind tour of the Balkans with my friend who we'll call Mateo for similarly convoluted reasons as I often use. Anyway, we're chilling out in Sarajevo.
Much as Franz Ferdinand of old. Nothing bad could happen, right? |
Well, maybe because you don't know of any Balkan cuisine. Maybe you were just going there because, hey, it's someplace you wouldn't go to normally, and it seems like it'll be pretty cheap. Maybe you wren't thinking about what you'd eat out there. YOU JUST DIDN'T KNOW. YOU DIDN'T THINK THE FOOD IN BELGRADE WOULD BE SO BAD (except for that one place, which was pretty great, but I don't recall whether or not we're there yet. Maybe we were. It's a tough call, because it's been a while).
And then you're wandering around the historic Muslim quarter, and you find this little place. It looks like it could be a hollowed out Subway or some such. But it's got this stuff called cevapi, and you've heard decent things. Maybe you'll give it a shot.
Around this time, your arteries are weakly protesting, because, well. Look at this.
"GODDAMMIT, NOT AGAIN," said Rob's arteries. |
Yeah. 20 sausages. In a pita. With sautéed onions. And that white stuff? They call it "kajmak." It's delicious. What's that? You want to know how to make it?
Well, here's a recipe I found earlier today for the very kajmak.
"INGREDIENTS:
1 quart milk1 pint heavy cream
DIRECTIONS:
Boil the milk in shallow enamel pan. Carefully, pour the cream in holding it as high as possible. Simmer mixture on low fire for about 2 hrs.
Turn off heat. Let it stand without mixing for 6 hours. Then turn on heat again and simmer on very low fire for 1/2 hour. Cool without mixing.
Then carefully place pan in refrigerator for 24 hours. Cream has formed. Loosen with the point of a knife and remove it to a flat plate. Cut into squares. It is delicious served on anything which calls for whipped cream or eaten alone."
Ladies and gentlemen. Kajmak.
Somehow I survived eating that on two consecutive days. I can only imagine the damage I did to my arteries in doing so.
Oh, wait. I don't have to, thanks to the SCIENCE OF MEDICAL SCHOOL. Hurrah for studying.
Turn off heat. Let it stand without mixing for 6 hours. Then turn on heat again and simmer on very low fire for 1/2 hour. Cool without mixing.
Then carefully place pan in refrigerator for 24 hours. Cream has formed. Loosen with the point of a knife and remove it to a flat plate. Cut into squares. It is delicious served on anything which calls for whipped cream or eaten alone."
Paula Deen could not be reached for comment, as she was too busy ogling. |
Somehow I survived eating that on two consecutive days. I can only imagine the damage I did to my arteries in doing so.
Oh, wait. I don't have to, thanks to the SCIENCE OF MEDICAL SCHOOL. Hurrah for studying.
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