A Bunch of Asparagus
The wine carafe, now filled with ice cold water and lemon wedges, stands sweating on the kitchen table. The ceiling fan, on low. The window open.
I don't know what's worse. Rain or the threat of rain.
"Any sign of ants?" Roberto asks.
"Half of them are dead. The other half are scrambling around in a drunken stuper." My answer is flanked by a visual survey of the window sill and kitchen floor.
Roberto looks up at the ceiling fan. A reminder that we need to clean the fans upstairs.
I write it on the list. The list of things to do. The list of food to buy. The list that seems to collapse in on itself by weeks end.
"What should we do for dinner tomorrow?" I ask.
I open the fridge door. "We've got asparagus and mushrooms."
I already know what Roberto's thinking.
But we've done that. Asparagus and bacon. Mushrooms and bacon (all pasta dishes—of course). The only thing left is pasta with asparagus, mushrooms and bacon.
"We can crack a few eggs over asparagus." I say.
"We just had eggs the other night." Roberto responds.
Not that eggs aren't good daily, but I already know what Roberto's thinking.
Perhaps a carbonara of sorts. Of sorts. Asparagus. Mushrooms. Bacon. Eggs.
And now with our pasta pantry fully stocked. A case of De Cecco. Twenty boxes. A variety. There's much we can do. Short or long. Ridged or smooth.
We were running dangerously low.
It's muggy. A carbonara of sorts could be rather heavy. I can feel the threat of sweat.
Perhaps something a bit lighter. Like Julie's Penne with Roasted Asparagus, Lemon and Pine Nuts or her equally appetizing Arugula, Roasted Asparagus and Pea Shoot Salad with Croutons and Parmesan.
I have an idea for dinner...