Rita is an excellent cook, as evidenced by my thickening
waistline. No amount of running can
compensate for the second helpings that I usually have of almost everything that
she puts on the table. The kitchen always smells so good when she’s around,
that it’s hard to stay away. I don’t want to stay away. Much more so when I get
to lick a wooden spoon, smeared with something decadent or get a whiff of
something that makes me heady with anticipation.
The first time I had homemade lasagna ( which Rita made ) was a life-altering
moment for me, in a way that, I won’t be able to eat lasagna again without
having to compare it with the one she makes. It is delicious. I’m trying to remember the way it melts in my mouth and takes me to
“lasagna” heaven. Writing about it now, makes my mouth waters. And makes me
hungry too.
 |
| Lasagna, let me count the ways. |
Since I came to stay with them, I think this was the third time that I get to see first-hand all the work involve in making homemade pasta, in this instance, lasagna. The first two times, Rita was with a group of friends. Last Wednesday, it was just the two of us. And had the music on. She had all the dough made the night before. I watched her rolled and cut them into pieces before she put them through the pasta maker (I’m not really sure about the name so I’m just guessing here.) The entire process is fascinating. I am fascinated.
Back to my story, Rita work tirelessly that day. She had two huge pots going on the stove. We had two tables covered with tablecloth where the lasagna was laid out to dry. And to make myself useful, I helped her in whatever that needs to be done. I was at the sink doing the dishes. Occasionally, I asked her questions, about this and that. But most of the time, I just watched her work.
It took us almost the entire day to get everything done. And its kind of neat that I get to actually take part in it. Thanks to Rita. :-)
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