warning: this is what happens when you cook while having a conversation that's much more interesting than what you're making.
i was cooking the pasta with the intent to bullshit a sauce when it was al dente, when one of my best friends called. in the three seconds that is my attention span, i lost interest in my pasta and walked away from it like a toy fit for a salvation army run on april 14.
a few minutes later, i remembered and walked back to the stove. as i talked about things that weren't semolina flour, i haphazardly tossed some parmesan, salt, pepper and cream into a pan, but i actually didn't have cream, so i used the last of my half & half, which, by the way, is really going to piss me off tomorrow morning.
i eventually hung up and turned to my pasta with the feeling of dread that one encounters when mending burnt bridges. i stabbed at it with a fork and moved it into my mouth, chewing not because there it was delicious, but because it expedited the movement of the mush into my stomach.
even though it looks like i splattered a bottle of white-out on my meal, it really didn't taste that bad. it was a kitchen case of "it's not you, it's me" and my pasta was the poor, photogenic sap who just never lived up to the expectations of his match.com profile picture. oh, well, still plenty of
2 comments:
eh, looks edible enough for me!
next to the pot holders!
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