Four score and seven years ago, when I was but a young man, and the sunlight danced above me and drew my eyes to it like a wingless moth, I remember my mother in the kitchen, cooking INTERNET RECIPE. The smells were all-encompasing; the sounds a cacophany, such that my other senses were held fast with the overload of these two senses. And then came the taste - of a single piece of juicy red capsicum. Then, a stalk of green onion - the greenest part of the stem, with which one might use for garnish. I utterly demolished these offerings from my mother - officially off breast milk and now well-practised and shoving whatever what near into my gob. Compared to my younger siblings, my mum would tell me later, I was the only one who liked the spring onion. I didn't cast it aside, off the high chair and onto the floor below (despite the large catchment area of the table, stained with splotches of pasta sauce from previous missed delivery attempts). I indugled and I have loved all thing smelly (onion, garlic etc) ever since.

Speaking of capsicums, I'm aware that these are called "peppers" by people in other countries, but I continue to be be referring to them by their proper name. Suffer in ya jocks, pepper-countries.

To be fair to those countries, it is more efficient to say "pepper" - you save a syllable each time. Imagine what you could do with all that time saved with all those syllables. I do, however, witness Australians, and the way we shorten anything at all (service station = servo, chocolate = choccie, afternoon = arvo, capsicum != capo), and by that yardstick, we should be the most efficient people in the world, but in no way, shape or form is that the reality.

Pepper reminds me distinctly of peppercorns, and forever will. From a cursory search, it appears that peppercorns are in fact completely distinct from the pepper/capsicum plant, which doesn't surprise me, although it would also not surprise me that I was just given some AI slop

Anyway, that's a long way to say there's capsicum in this dish. And that Australians are efficient/inefficient. And that we must be diligent and remove ourselves from the AI slop that's out there and will surely grow to the point of blanketing the Internet that we know, like snow on Christmas over a middle-class American suburb where all the little kiddies unpack toys produced by elves (factory workers) in the North Pole (China, India, Bangladesh etc).

Where was I? Oh, yeah.

Ok - so my mum was cooking INTERNET RECIPE, the smells bloomed and my world was filled with the anticipation of a meal that tantalised the senses, and would go on to hold my fascination throughout my life, and would one day lead me to create this website and publish this recipe. There is no bloody way that this recipe will sit in my recipe box, or my mum's recipe box, or her mum's recipe box, etc etc, and continue to get progressively more yellow until I can no longer read the handwriting, and even though I remember it off by heart, my beating beating heart, I decided to share it with the braoder world for the joy of your own kitchen and that sweet, sweet ad revenue (enough to supplement my corporate job wage until I can make enough here and end up like the Queen, Nagi 'Recipe Tin Eats' Maehashi.

This version of INTERNET RECIPE is explicitly designed for an achievable nightly meal. Typically, the best and most classic version of INTERNET RECIPE would be completed from scratch in about 72-hours, especially if you were to ferment the dough for long enough and hunt your own wild hog.