Colorado. Runner. Yogi. Fucking hilarious, like, 17% of the time.

how I hate you, jiggly milk

I am Italian and I am proud of it. I love being Italian. I love throwing around any possible Mafia heritage when it's worth a laugh and I love feeling like I'm doing justice to my DNA when I eat too much pasta. What I don't love is panna cotta.

If you've never had it, panna cotta is sort of a custard. It's not thickened with eggs, like the creme in a creme brulee, and it's not thickened with air, like sabayon.

It's thickened with gelatin.

Let me walk you through this. The Italians had some bad ass food. Hell, they had ricotta, a cheese so delicious it's practically a dessert in and of itself. When they started seeing custards coming out of France, they thought 'hm, that looks tasty'. However, rather than mastering the rather intense prevention of curdling that such custards require, they thought, 'what the hell, let's just use fish bones'.

The fish bones were a source of gelatin, and they certainly did thicken the sweet milk.

Leading to MILK JELLO.

MILK JELLO, people. Say that out loud. Think about it. Take it into your soul. Do whatever you need to do to realize that MILK JELLO is not a good idea.

Milk Jello is disgusting. It's sure as hell not custard. It's jiggly milk.

Milk should not jiggle. Milk that jiggles has expired and needs to be thrown out.

Panna cotta? You're ruining my pride in being Italian.

school days, school days, dear old golden rule days

in other news, musicians are motherfucking sexy