The afternoon sun streams through the kitchen windows, bringing spring’s hope and a sing-song that encourages breaking rules. Smiling, I wipe my floured hands on mom’s crocheted tea towel and crack open a dusty red, dark grape Syrah. He watches quietly as I transform egg and flour.
“Thin or fat noodles?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
One ball will generously feed four. I cut it into three and flattened each piece into ovals. The ovals are squeezed thin through rollers then cut into elongated fifteen inch lengths. It’s a magical process.
Simple foods; simple pleasures.
Within five minutes, the powder-white noodles take on their yolk colour and are perfectly cooked; filling our pasta bowl with steaming fat al dente spaghetti topped with a thick peppery sauce and grated cheese.
Fresh and organic; from flour to tomato, we chose well.
And through the making, cooking, talking, laughing, eating… we are once again, deliciously present.
Photos by Deb Cripps