Rasta pasta

Right from the off, I should be absolutely clear that there is no Jamaican element to this dish whatsoever.  No secret ingredient of Reggae Reggae Sauce or a rogue scotch bonnet. Levi Roots isn't going to jump out of the woodwork, brandishing a yam (which is a darn shame, because he seems like a jolly sort of fellow).  You may have guessed that from the photo, but I feel I should point this out because - like any self-respecting blogger - I am obsessed with my blog view stats.  Through this I can see, for one, that I do actually have readers, quite a few in fact, even if I don't have followers (c'mon lurkers, give me a wave!), and I can also see what people type into google to lead them here. 

What leads a lot of people here, it seems, is a desire to be somewhere else.  So to all of you who were looking for something completely different, MEGA SOZ.  To name but a few: firstly, those who are here looking for a carby taste of the Caribbean - I'm afraid it's back to google for you, my friend. Secondly - and this is the most common wrong turn - those looking for the real Nigella.  Sorry again; less boobs, more swears, but if you can get past that there's still some food and stuff.  And lastly, to the two people who optimistically typed in 'fuck in supermarket' and ended up at THIS - well, you get my biggest sorry. Unless you enjoy spaffing-off over a well oiled penne dish, then you were probably severely disappointed.

Why rasta pasta then? Why the misleading name and subsequent apology? Well the colours, duh! I was besides myself when I came up with this.

Me: "I name this dish, RASTA PASTA!"
Ben: Silence
Me: "Did you hear me? I've called it Rasta Pasta! D'you get it?"
Ben: "Yes, I get it"
Me: "No, but, it's the Rastafarian colours AND it rhymes"
Ben: "Yes, darling, I get it".
Me: "Then why aren't you applauding?"

Philistine. 

This is a great dish for me at the moment because...*drumroll*....my tomatoes have kicked off!  It's like they all went red when my back was turned  (to be specific, when my back was turned picking up a BOGOF deal of cherry tomatoes at sainsbury's) so for the past couple of weeks we've had tonnes of the fuckers.  And you know what? It breaks me to say it, but the ones I've grown don't taste any better than shop bought.  In fact I think the shop bought ones are better.  I feel totally cheated after the blood, sweat, tears and spider related freak-outs they've caused.  I don't know where I went wrong - too much sun/not enough, too much plant food/not enough - but is disappointing none the less.



If I were a less honest blogger I would probably just show you the photo and be all like "oh it's SO worthwhile, you all really SHOULD grow your own, yes it's effort but the payoffs, oh the payoffs, dahhhling!".....bullshit, mate.  Although, quite frankly, I'm amazed that I got real actual tomatoes in any form to grow, so swings and roundabouts. This recipe is actually very good for the bland little blighters, because they are basically so seasoned and pickled you can't tell they're below par. 

Rasta Pasta

200g linguine
Good slosh of olive/rapeseed oil
1 large/2 small cloves of garlic, minced
Handful of torn basil
1 tbsp red wine vinegar (or 2tbsp if you like a bit of zing)
1/2 tsp caster sugar
Good pinch of salt and pepper
300g cherry tomatoes (try and get red and golden ones for the full reggae effect)

Slice your cherry tomatoes in half and in a a bowl mix them with the vinegar, sugar, salt and garlic. Give them a good scrunch up with your hands, till you have a bit of a squashy tomato mulch. Leave them for about 15 mins.

In the meantime, cook your pasta.  Once done, drain and mix in the tomato mixture, oil and the torn basil.  Add a load of pepper, for kicks.