already entered in February (when best eaten in Galicia to my liking and that of many) I bring you a post cooking, which I present tonight's dinner: an original dish from my house and my mother more better than anyone. Truth doubly true, since I have never seen it done to anyone outside the family kelo:
The Croquetóndigas:
What are croquettes (or will not round patties) or are meatballs (they not be round, not accompanied by stew and have a much milder taste.) Are presented in a format close to that donut wind, and come to be something like clusters of fried dough, kneading and seasonings to taste, which aim to take the leftovers, and as ingredients and others that occur to you-insurance: egg, flour, pepper, leftover meat from cooked,-who has already returned to table several times and whose success has been overshadowed by any other dish of the day, finely chopped ... and I suppose the wood stove and Mom's hand will have something to do also:
And nothing else. To the skillet a few minutes, and hot or cold ... I flip. My brother can eat a thousand, if any.
is clear the word.
And nothing else. To the skillet a few minutes, and hot or cold ... I flip. My brother can eat a thousand, if any.
is clear the word.
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