I invited my mom for dinner the other day. A simple dinner. Pasta, bread. Italian food. No biggie.
Until I started cooking.
I decided to make the pasta.
Soon I was kneading a silky yellow 00 flour with Seminola pasta, flecked with fresh basil into beautiful dough balls. I felt inspired and turned to making bread. I went to my go-to bread, a multi-grain Sicilian bread that is hearty and full flavored.
Then I decided I wanted some dessert so made a Ghiradelli double chocolate chip concoction that demanded ice-cream. Out came the ice-cream maker.
The whole plan started with a single eggplant, because I thought fried eggplant with my sauce would be a good mix.
So the process of frying the slices joined the baking bread the churning ice-cream maker and the rising pasta in a flour-dusted cacophony that filled my kitchen with life even though I was home alone awaiting my mother and step-father’s arrival.
I hadn’t intended to cook all afternoon. I hadn’t intended a lot of things. But I loved the result, which filled our table with incredible homemade delights. Everything could have been bought at a store and made in about 30 minutes.
No thanks. The four hours were well spent and the food was much, much better.
Besides, isn’t Mom worth it?