It started with browsing in the seafood department.

I had my list, but my compulsion ordered me up and down every aisle.

There they were, on a little bed of ice: Bay scallops.

So, I asked the fishmonger (okay, the Price Chopper Guy) for a quarter of a pound. He gave me a third of a pound, but I didn’t mind.

I went about my shopping, and devised a plan.

I struggled up the stairs with my $4o in groceries, paused to fill a pan with water and set it to boil. As waited for the water to boil, I put the groceries away, careful not to watch the pot.

I added a pinch of salt to the water and then a handful of whole grain pasta.
I gathered all my ingredients, ordering them by need. When they were assembled on the counter, I oiled my sautee pan, threw in the scallops and added enough garlic to give the sauce a kick.

Testing the scallops for doneness, I tasted the brine of the New England sea. Tender, but chewy, they were about ready.

Next came the vodka sauce. I poured too much in and thought of Mario Batali’s admonishment that sauce should be a condiment to the pasta, not saturate it like soup, but I shrugged. There’s no such thing as too much sauce.

The sauce popped in the pan while I drained the spaghetti in my bright blue colander and carefully brought it back the stove.

I flicked my wrist and watched the sauce fold over the pasta. Not as graceful as I’ve seen on Iron Chef, but it will do.

When I pour the concoction into a bowl, it does look like soup. It’s so hot, my hand burns through the bowl.

As I wait for it to cool, I sit down and write a blog entry, but it’s cool now, so the writing must stop.


One response to “Lunch

  1. For my parents’ anniversary, I came up with a recipie. Take one boneless New York Strip Steak. Flank it with a couple of kielbasa sausages. Wrap the combo in three slices of thick bacon, and toss onto a barbeque grill.

    My mother’s reaction upon seeing it was, “Oh, merciful heavens.”

    But it was GOOD.

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