Spaghetti Mistress

21 Jul

I. I guess this is more of a post to describe my background with food and in particular my early childhood memories associated with beer and food.  One of the fears most commonly represented in movies for kids is the idea of getting lost and separated from your parents (sup, Home Alone I and II).  My real-life encounters with parental separation usually took place in the grocery store.

I was so in love with pasta at an early age that I would frequently head for the pasta aisle and stare up at all the different styles (gemelli, which means twins, was an early favorite) and somehow lose the rest of my family.  I would also lose track of time pouring over the wall of pasta until over the PA I would hear my name being called and being asked to come to the cash register.  My mother was smart enough to also groom me as an intuitive pasta tester at an early age.  Every time she made pasta she would ask me to try it at different times so I would grow accustomed to what was raw, semi-cooked, al dente and overcooked.

As for beer, I was also groomed at an early age to pour a beer properly and specifically a Guinness, by my father.  He would take us on family vacations to England, Ireland and Scotland where I spent some quality time in pubs inhaling fish and chips that were drowning in malt vinegar while keeping my eyes trained on the tap pulls.  My next adventure is to become the queen of pasta making, something in which one would think I’d already dabbled, and try my hand at homebrewing one of these days.  So I guess let’s just call this a work in progress and I’ll fill you in on the details as it grows.


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