Why is pasta such a wonderful comfort food? Is it because I’m (half) Italian? Whenever I’m cranky, tired, sick, hungry, bored, lonely, busy, anxious, etc., all I seem to want is pasta.
A few friends came over this afternoon and it ended up being a pasta dinner for five. I felt immensely satisfied afterward. My gramma would have been proud. (Oops! No wine! Bad Italian!)
Olympics and pasta = a winning combination.