N ~ Noodles

I love noodles. LOVE noodles. I could probably eat pasta everyday and not get bored. Think about the almost infinite combinations:

Shape of pasta (fettuccine, angel hair, shells, corkscrew, bow-tie...)

Ingredients of pasta (whole wheat, potato, organic, gluten-free, rice, those awesome Japanese noodles that when you add the dry brick to screaming hot oil in a frying pan, they explode into a nest-style mess of pasta)

Sauce! I'm not even going to begin to list these. I'm good with anything that has garlic and DOES NOT have an olive of any style anywhere near it. My pasta is an olive-free zone, just like the peanut thing on airplanes.

Add-ins chicken, sausage, beef, shrimp, tofu... The choices limited only by the strength of your imagination (or how many cookbooks you have read) (Yes, I read cookbooks. For pleasure. But that will have to be another post. P ~ Pleasure Reading?)

I've had many delectably scrumptious pasta meals, but there's one that stands out from all the others. I've never enjoyed a pasta dinner as much as the one The Engineer and I had late one November night, 1994.

We were living in our 1925 Old Town bungalow at that time, and as I've mentioned before, it was a steal, needed work, and was quite small. One of our major projects was remodeling the kitchen. The Pepto-Bismal pink kitchen. With the Pepto-Bismal pink rolling dishwasher. With asbestos-laced ancient linoleum. I know, we're picky. But we think color does matter, as do cancer-causing components. The Engineer had estimated a week or two. Fortunately, after nine years of dating and two of marriage, I knew that time estimates from The Engineer are rarely accurate, and a week becomes a summer, a weekend a year, and in the case of the kitchen, a month became five.

At first, I thought it was awesome. No cooking or dishes to worry about. Chances to try new restaurants. I'm a foodie, and thought that I would NEVER get tired of going out. But his was also before I learned to cook, before I was even remotely interested in cooking and I actually did get tired of going out.

So one evening, kitchen not yet done, but done enough for cooking, we decided to inaugurate our beautiful new digs by making pasta. From scratch. Using our newest kitchen gadget, the Pasta Queen. Though I didn't know how to nor like cooking, The Engineer always has. He's a great cook. Can you see why I wasn't motivated to learn? I had no need.

Cooking together that night with light-hearted banter and some a splurged on expensive wine, was quite a celebration. As we sat down to enjoy our fettuccine with garlicky parmesan sauce, we were content.

I've told this story to my boys, both of whom are into cooking, and Jake's comment still cracks me up. “So you'd been waiting and waiting for the kitchen to be done and then you make macaroni and cheese? I don't get it.” Yes, Jacob, I guess you could call it Mac-n-Cheese. Perhaps you need to learn some marketing techniques ;-) It was a great meal.

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