On Pasta - Martha's Blog

I am making pasta tomorrow and I know it will be the best one I’ve ever made. I am not usually this excited about pasta; we have a rough history.

With Macaroni, I could make it in my sleep and it would still turn out great, and more importantly, I could eat it cold or lukewarm.

But spaghetti was different, I couldn’t figure out how to make the sauce better, know when it’s cooked right, or make it less sticky. I hated the stickiness; it left an ugly lump in my throat and prompted a gag reflex. This was the reason why I couldn’t eat a bowl of cold spaghetti, heating it up doesn’t help either.

My spaghetti had to be hot and freshly cooked. I had to eat it as soon as it came down from the cooker or I would throw it all up.

But there was an exception, the only way I could eat heated-up spaghetti was if it was cooked white, with a stew combo. I don’t know if I have always been this way as a kid, I don’t even remember when this fetish started for me. How did my taste buds decide this for me anyway?

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There’s something I’ve always found fascinating about pasta, the way those long strings of flour assume a softer shape when cooked in hot water.

I find food and conversations around food interesting; it exposes the peculiarities in our tastes and at the baseline show us the uniqueness in human behaviors and preferences. For example, one of my friends doesn’t like eggs or chicken and for the life of me, I couldn’t understand it. These were my two favorite things that someone else felt repulsed by. She loves watermelons and I think they are such a stressful fruit to eat. Didn’t they say one man’s food, another man’s poison, eh?

Now back to pasta.

I have a pasta wish list. Someday, I want to eat spaghetti and meatballs, and spaghetti Bolognese in Italy. Someday yes, but for now, I am sticking to the ordinary.

To make ordinary pasta, you have to start with a boiling pot of water and then break your pasta in two, pouring them in whole works great too. Making the sauce is the most important part of the process, it has to have enough tomatoes, pepper, and onions.

Do you like garlic? Chop them up, add ginger too. Think of your greens too; slice your carrots and peas to a fine consistency. Shred your chicken and cut your sausages into small circles. Your sauce must be thick enough to cook the pasta well. A slight slippery pasta should be the goal.

Pasta is never routine in my family, there is a consistency to it

When you think of pasta in my house, you think of Wednesdays and Saturdays. And that’s what I’ve come to associate pasta with, in my life. It promises consistency; that I would either enjoy it when it is hot or hate it if it is cold. It expects consistency too; that it has to be cooked a certain way to appeal to my taste buds. Finally, it teaches consistency, I had to iterate for years until I got from bad-tasting pasta to good enough pasta.

There’s something I’ve always found fascinating about pasta, the way those long strings of flour assume a softer shape when cooked in hot water. I like to think perhaps it says something about life too, that life can be hard but the right conditions can make it a lot easier to bear. Your “right conditions” may be random beautiful moments, friends who love you, people who hug you tight on bad days, or thinking of plans to make pasta the night before.

So, find your people, the moments worth reliving, or better still, find pasta and make yourself a nice plate of it. Pasta is consistent, embrace the consistency.

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On Pasta🍝

Now back to pasta.

Pasta is never routine in my family, there is a consistency to it