Roasted yellow, orange, red and green peppers were packaged and gifted from one Italian mother to her son. She had no doubt spent a good part of afternoon slaving over the coals, peeling off the skins, slicing and packaging in preparation for their stint in the freezer to be consumed at a later date.
With the peppers out of their packaging and placed in a bowl, we dressed simply with an obscene amount of parsley, a generous bit of garlic, just the right touch of salt, and a copious glug of olive oil.
I toss and taste. Perfection.
24 hours lapse...
Secondo. Four farmers market eggs cracked into a pan coated with olive oil. Salt and pepper, flipped. Warm, runny yolks waiting to be tapped with fork tine or toasted bread. Slivers of fresh cows milk cheese, roasted peppers, a plate of mixed olives from the market.
With the side of my fork, I slice into the fried egg. A bit of the yolk is still clinging to it, I place it on the bread followed by a slice of the cheese and finally a single section of roasted pepper. I inhale the first bite, leaving a smaller second bite.
I dip the remaining bite of bread into the yolk.
Eventually the yolk runs dry and the bread runs out. We have cleaned our plates. Gracefully we decline the remaining peppers. Just enough for a second secondo.