Throwing Chorizo in Some Dude's Pasta Bowl

Bizarre example of generosity from me tonight... and I'm still trying to figure out why I did such a thing. I was whipping up a bit of chorizo, pickled (and then cooked) red onions, anaheim chili, and crushed grape tomatoes (higher sugar content and a good neutralizer to a chili) to top off a chicken sandwich I was making tonight. While I was whipping up this concoction, I wanted to utilize the community oven in my building for the half-cooked baguette I bought from the store earlier. Side note: half-cooked baguettes are genius because you buy them from someone who knows what they're doing, then all you have to do is fire them up for 8 minutes and you have almost-freshly made bread. So, I walked down the hall to fire up my baguette for the sandwich. As I was painfully waiting for 8 minutes, I saw a guy take a pre-cooked bowl of penne pasta, splash a little water on the noodles, and throw them in the microwave. He then proceeded to open up a room temperature jar of pasta sauce and poured it over the noodles. Now I really don't consider myself a food snob by any means, but the effort shown here was embarrassing. In my mind, it was like watching someone defecate in public, and then continue to shock the world by wiping their ass with their bare hand.

To clarify, I really don't think there is that much wrong with eating pasta and canned pasta sauce. But the combination of old plain pasta, canned pasta sauce (without any additives like mushrooms or onions... which you can buy in the can) and the fact that this all took place in Paris, France of all places, was too much for me to handle. For the love of God, couldn't this barbarian just saute up some garlic, onions, and carrots and throw those bad boys in there to spice it up a little... throw a dash of herbes de provence on top... you get the point. However, this guy didn't do that, so I felt the need to stop him.

Without saying a word to him during this entire observation, I intervened as he was walking out the door with his bowl of tasteless betrayal. I said, "Wait here... I'll be back."

He said, "Why?"

I said, "Because, just trust me." He didn't look convinced, and I was scared if I exited right then, he would actually go back to his room and eat the steaming bowl. I said, "I promise if you wait for one minute, it will be worth it."

He said, "Ok." I ran down the hall to my room, grabbed my simmering pan of slow cooking chorizo, onions, chili, and FRESH tomatoes, and even managed to snatch my shaker of oregano as it caught my eye on the way out. I walked back into the room to find the guy still standing there with his bowl, and without asking, I poured the mixture into his pasta bowl. Then I shook some oregano over the top, grabbed the bowl from his hands, and tossed it around a little bit (with some impressive flair for effect). Then I smiled and said, "Chorizo. That's the sausage that you are going to taste. You can buy it anywhere. Bon Appetit." I grabbed my bread (which was now done) and then I left. Not kidding.

I'm pretty sure that I changed that guy's life. Even if the pasta wasn't as epic as the dramatic pretenses under which is was created, he'll at least always remember the psychopath who felt the bizarre need to chorizo his pasta. And still, as I'm writing this, I really don't know why I did that. I've seen these sorts of things before... people boiling vegetables to oblivion, not searing meat on high enough heat, blah blah other culinary nightmares blah. But never have I felt such a need to throw chorizo in some dude's pasta bowl. And I'm still trying to figure out why tonight? Maybe starting this blog has something to do with it...

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Chorizo is a term encompassing several types of pork sausages originating from the Iberian Peninsula. Spanish Chorizo is seasoned with smoked pimenton (paprika) and salt.