Never underestimate the depths of depravity to which the human soul will plunge in moments of sheer unmitigated mind-numbing boredom. My son asked me to make donuts. Why not? So I start dumping buttermilk, butter, flour, sugar, egg, cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, fennel, almond extract - OK, so I got carried away. And then fried up some zeppolline. Little Zeps.
And then, I recall the zeppo-crema, zeppole filled with sorbet or ice cream. Weird, but a very Sicilian thing. They even put ice cream on a bun. BINGO, says my mind. Hey they put a hamburger on a crispy creme, right? Somewhere in this derelect nation of ours. Why not a diminutive hamburger, pickle, barbecue sauce on a little crispy sweet zeppole? Not bad. My son only asked "Why did you put BBQ sauce on it?"
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3 comments:
I can totally see this. I am awfully partial to sausage-y
pate-y things with jams and jellies (guess that's why the Renaissance spicing isn't too horrid for me). Now you have me thinking about pork sausage on fried sweet dough!!
The blood sausage is way more appealing.
My dad often ate pork sandwiches with Mom's homemade jam for breakfast on weekends when I was a kid. Seemed revolting then. When I think of it as an adult, though, it makes perfect sense: no different than foie gras with currants. So tasty.
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