Tubetti with Garden Tomato and Zucchini
The salad was made. Cucumber. Tomato. Green pepper. Red Onion.
The bread was sliced.
The wine and water, poured.
Garlic, red onion and a chili pepper fizzed in extra virgin olive oil, sending a swift telegram to my nose—dinner's drawing near.
Tubetti, measured out, swam in a shallow pot.
Roberto tipped a bit of booze (our white cooking wine) into the pan before scraping the zucchini off the cutting board.
I fumbled with soapy sponge, keeping up with dishes.
The retrieval of the small measuring cup served as a time marker. Roberto scraped the diced tomato into the pan. Sizzle.
My heart sang with happiness. Pasta eaten with a spoon!
A final check for salinity and doneness—
"I burned my tongue." He said.
No, I thought.
"Can you taste this? I won't be tasting anything tonight." He said.
I blew on the spoon, my hand cupped beneath—just in case. "It's delicious." I said.
"This is really fresh." I said.
"I was just about to say the say thing." He said.