The staple food group of a lazy-but-pretending-not-to-be teenage girl
It is 8 PM and I’m home alone and I want food. Where do I turn? To the age old favourite, pasta. Now, I don’t want to let myself know that I’m lazy, so I’m not going to make Ramen. But I am too lazy to execute the multitasking an egg and cheese sandwich would demand, so I grab my best friend Rotini, a pot, and turn on the radio.
(Trashy radio is best. The kind where you don’t know if up next will be pining Ed Sheeran or 2 Chainz and his infinitely finite vocabulary, or an advert for an auto body shop specializing in 10 minute oil changes)
You should know that pasta is a justifiable best food because it has been around… in a slightly different form… since 1st century BC. Lagana were fried sheets of dough and eaten EVERY DAY. And mom says pasta should be a once a week food. Ha. Thanks, Horace, for supporting my endeavors.
But pasta evolved! As I boil water in pot, and watch the small little bubbles at the bottom form, I should be infinitely thankful for the 5th Century Arabs who are our first know dry pasta makers. I slowly slice Cabbot cheddar seriously sharp cheese and say a thank you to the men and women who realized that drying pasta would make it easy to store and therefore easy for me to make.
As I steam my broccoli in my handy dandy microwave, I think about how good it is that somebody decided that the flat sheets and strings of pasta could better hold sauces and cheeses if they were not flat sheets and strings.
This is what we had before some genius realized your pasta could have a side role as a vessel for greasy cheesy foods. So after many years of laboring, those flat stringy lackluster bars of dried flour became THESE BEAUTIES.
So now we have our steamed broccoli and our cut cheddar and the water has boiled and we have put the Rotini (see above as loosely related to Fusili) in the boiling water and we have listened to both Rihanna and Mackelmore and we are now waiting for the little spirals of joy to reach the perfect consistency. (Whoever told me that you can tell pasta is done by throwing it at a wall had different expectations for the definition of pasta. I suppose this would work with Angel Hair or Linguine but try as I might, I can not make Rotini stick to my kitchen wall.)
While we wait for the last moments of triumph, we say one last thank you; for the pasta makers of Italy and America who know that white flour makes pasta taste better than wheat flour any day of the week. The whole wheat pasta is grainy and just…. tastes like it’s trying to be healthy. Thank goodness there are people who know that there are people like me who will want the oral satisfaction of a smooth pasta that has the perfect elasticity.
Now we strain. We splash olive oil over the steaming noodle and coat with a happy helping of cheese. We sprinkle electric green broccoli over the top to give the illusion of health and sit down on the couch, by yourself, eating two to three servings of pasta for your home alone makeshift supper. It’s been a success.
(A small learning did occur that I am sad for: before tomato sauce, pasta was a finger food. I would like to urge lazy teenagers everywhere to revert to this previous enlightened state of being when tomato sauce is not present.)