le grand petit mort.
“Today is a good day to die.”
Le petite mort, is that Mort Sahl’s kid brother?
Hear me now, and harken well to my words.
It has been said that we are all given gifts at birth by the Gods on high, and one of my gifts is that I make the greatest Alfredo sauce that has ever passed through human or divine lips, and I do it perfectly every time.
Melt your butter over low heat. Add your cream and bring to just over a simmer whilst the entire time you whisk like your life depended upon it.
As soon as you get past the simmer stage add inf freshly grated parmesan cheese by the handful all the time whisking like there is not tomorrow. Screw the nutmeg. Throw in a hefty dash of redpepper, turn the heat up and keep adding cheese whilst you whisk with all the stength in your little wrist.
Cheese, cheese and more cheese. Heat and speed dissolve this stuff, but you only have so long to work lest your sauce seperate. Each time it starts to bubble toss in more cheese.
Remove from heat and keep whisking for another minute.
Your freshly made fettucine (roll, cut, and cook your own for godsakes, you’re creating a heart attack in every meal, here. You might as well go all out,) should be sitting in a collander, having been cooked to al dente than rinsed in cold water and a touch of vegetable oil.
Pour the sauce over the Fet, and toss like a salad.
Serve with panneed veal medallians that have been beaten into paper thinness, breaded and fried.
Eat, than lay on floor and feel arteries clog. Wait for heart to stop.
I’m thinking of a Monty Python sketch.