Linguine with Squash Blossoms

There was a knock at the door. A crisp white paper bag was handed to me, the top folded over just the once. I peaked inside. My eyes lit up. My lips curled into a smile.

Orange flames nestled ever so neatly. I started to panic.

"How many are in here? Didn't you keep any for yourself?" I asked.

...

I grabbed the Canon. Removed the plants from the window sill. Cut open the white paper bag.

On.

Macro.

Shoot.

...

"You're mother brought these. We need to eat them. She said to dip them in egg, dust them with flour, fry them. Can't we just throw them into pasta?" I asked.

"Sure. We'll need to clean them really well." He said.

"They're furry." I said.

...

"Lidia has a pasta dish." I said.

I held the cookbook open in my hands.

"What does it say." He asked.

"It's basically aglio e olio with squash blossoms thrown in." I said.

"Okay. Let's do it." He said.

Cleaned squash blossoms were cut into ribbons and thrown into the pan just moments before the linguine was pulled from its salty bath.

Busying myself with grating cheese and a bit of dishes, Roberto prepped a dish.

"Do you want to take a picture?" He asked.

"Oh, I didn't even think there'd be light...YES!" I said happily.

He knows me so well.

...

"This is delicious." I said.

"This is delicious." I said again.