It's Been a Long Time Coming

Pasta shapes matter.  That became apparent on this day when after decades, I come to find that it's not that P hates pasta, its that he hates long pasta, like spaghetti and linguine.  He has no problem with elbow pasta.  How did I not put this together decades ago?!  He would order pasta salad from BBQ joints.  He was open to ravioli and stuffed shells.  Even so, it pains me to think he will not know the sensual experience of a perfectly sauced long noodle gliding down his throat.  Short pastas are for kids, with juvenile minds I think to myself.  However, there is room in my appetite for all shapes and sizes, and I do not discriminate when it comes to food.  

With all the meat sauces I've made through the years, I've never made a proper ragu.   Wine, milk and pancetta are included in this deeply hearty sauce.  There is something special about ground meat softened to the texture of oatmeal but boosted of it's savory glory with a long simmer.  

Bring It On Home To Me

Eleanor Roosevelt said to do one thing a day that scares you. I do that. I get out of bed. For me, sometimes, that IS the scariest prospect.

My bed is the closest thing to the womb that I can figure. I'd go back if I could. I do my best thinking and idea makin' here plus I'm safe and nothing bad happens here. Its comfortable and quiet, tranquil and soft. So cozy and inviting that sometimes I can't bring myself to leave it.
But Eleanor also said its better to light a candle than curse the darkness. Thank goodness for National Thai and delivery. On the occasion that the mind does not allow normal living, I can still eat outstanding flavors and never leave my womb.