Life is Like a Bowl of Pasta
“Have you ever eaten Italian pasta?”
This was the question put to me by my soon-to-be mother-in-law the first time I went home for family dinner. As if navigating the dynamics of a large Italian dinner wasn’t enough, I was suddenly being put on the spot about my culinary knowledge in a country where food is everything.
Being young, and let’s admit it, a little naïve, I quickly launched into defence mode and started sprouting my pasta-eating knowledge.
Yes. I’m new to Italy, but my parents are Italian so… Yes. I know that’s not the same things as ‘being Italian’. However, it does mean that I’ve eaten… You can imagine how the rest of the conversation went – yes, that well.
It wasn’t until years later that I found myself imitating my mother-in-law when I caught myself asking my son if he had ever eaten real pasta.
“How’s it different to normal pasta?” was his speedy reply.
“It’s not the pasta itself,” I began. “It’s the fact that its so easy to cook, you always make too much. Which provides the perfect excuse to invite a friend, or three, over to enjoy it with you. Then one thing leads to another, lunch becomes dinner, and before you know it you’ve created a bowl of new memories instead of pasta.”
“Sounds great, mom,” he said. “Now pass me the parmesan.”
I might have to get him to cook with me a little more often if this ‘life is like a bowl of pasta’ idea is going to sink in.