veal scallopini

It’s basically the same as eating pigs, cows, chickens, ducks, horses and on and on. Somehow the meat and dairy industry has done a great job of convincing us otherwise. A lot of small farms give names to their animals that are to be murdered. Maybe it’s a little harder to slaughter your cow or pig if it’s named Benji, Snowball or Baxter. Animals just want to roam free and raise their families too. The problem starts when some dude in Cleveland wants his veal scallopini for brunch. Then we have to take the baby away from the mommy cow and put it into a meat slicer. Maybe Rover, the baby veal, would rather play in the pasture instead of ending up in some guy’s gut. Try a grilled mushroom hero instead.

Veal Scallopini with lemon


2 pounds veal scallopini
1 C all purpose flour
Salt & fresh ground pepper, to taste
Olive oil and butter
1 ½ C chicken stock
½ lemon, juiced, and the other half sliced thinly for garnish
Chopped parsley for garnish


Pour the flour onto a plate, and season with salt & pepper. Dredge the scallopini in the flour and shake off the excess, set aside.

Melt butter and olive oil together in  a skillet over medium heat. Add scallopini to skillet and brown on both sides. Set aside until all the veal has been cooked.

After the veal has been removed from the pan, add the chicken stock to the pan over high heat and scrape the bottom of the pan to loosen all the brown bits. Cook until the liquid has been thickened.

Add one tablespoon of butter, lemon juice and parsley to the sauce. Stir over high heat for another 5 minutes or so.

Pour sauce over veal, Garnish with the thinly sliced lemons and parsley, and serve.

nicayal  asked:

I wish you would write a fic where... Axel is a major foodie and Roxas is the pickiest eater on the planet and has the palate of a grade schooler. Anything even remotely exotic or "ethnic" is a big fat no for Roxas; he'll take blue box mac 'n' cheese over some gourmet, bullshit quattro formaggi any day of the week. Axel's determined to change that, if only he can figure out how to make Roxas see the error of his uncultured ways. Bonus points for making it sexy.

You know I will always humor you, darlin’

Quattro Formaggi and Kraft Mac n Cheese

“Roxas, what—what is that?” Axel was staring at the blue cup Roxas was pulling from the microwave.

Roxas raised an eyebrow. “Lunch. What does it look like?”

Axel raised a hand to his heart dramatically. “Lunch? Rox, that is, that's—” he sputtered, inarticulate for a moment, and then, “Please tell me it’s emergency rations.”

Roxas scowled down at his instant mac ‘n cheese. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Roxas.” Axel draped a conspiratorial arm over the shorter man’s shoulders. “That is nowhere near an acceptable choice for lunch. A poor excuse for noodles, drenched in an even poorer excuse for ‘cheese sauce,’” he even curled his fingers in air quotes, “how can you subject yourself to that?”

Roxas’s eyes slid to the side to regard Axel. “It just so happens that I like it.”

Axel gaped, blinking, as Roxas shuffled back to the couch with his cup of Kraft macaroni and cheese.

Roxas glanced up from the TV, forkful of pasta halfway to his mouth, to see Axel still standing in the kitchen. He replaced the fork. “If it bothers you that much, I can add some protein.” He unfolded his legs and crossed back into the kitchen, stepping around Axel to open the fridge. “I’m pretty sure I have some hot dogs left.” A quick search revealed that he did, indeed, have a half-used package of hot dogs, and he placed one of those in the microwave next.

Axel watched, speechless, as Roxas cut it into slices and tipped them right in with the mac n cheese.

“Spaghetti Bolognese,” Roxas announced, mixing the hot dog bits in.

Axel felt himself pale as Roxas took a bite of the concoction. He couldn’t even begin to describe everything wrong with the food, with calling it—calling it— “Roxas—”

“Come on, Ax, time to get your ass beat at Smash.”

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