I understand. This hot mess to the right is hardly discernible as food. Sometimes (well, a lot of times), I finish a dish, plate it up, sit down with my family for dinner, start eating, and then...ARGH. I need to take a picture for the blog.
By that time, my plate looks like a warzone. But, everything I do, I do it for you...and there is no other option.
Burrata is a cheese. A fabulous, fun cheese. It looks like a small, baseball-sized lump of mozzarella...then you cut into it and a creamy, cheesy filling of another sort oozes from the middle. It's like surprise cheese.
And of course, I can't find it around here. Thus, I traveled to the state capital to purchase. And then I baked some garlicky, buttery acorn squash and set pieces of this burrata on top of it, hot from the oven.
It gets all melty, gooey, and delicious.
Gotta have the burrata.
By that time, my plate looks like a warzone. But, everything I do, I do it for you...and there is no other option.
Burrata is a cheese. A fabulous, fun cheese. It looks like a small, baseball-sized lump of mozzarella...then you cut into it and a creamy, cheesy filling of another sort oozes from the middle. It's like surprise cheese.
And of course, I can't find it around here. Thus, I traveled to the state capital to purchase. And then I baked some garlicky, buttery acorn squash and set pieces of this burrata on top of it, hot from the oven.
It gets all melty, gooey, and delicious.
Gotta have the burrata.
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