So yesterday, for the first time in my life, I made spaghetti out of pure necessity. Now, I’ve always loved spaghetti, especially when coated in margarine, but making it was a very different experience for me. My memory fades back to when I used to enjoy medieval night with my father. He would make orzo and smoked salmon, and we would enjoy that at the table, just father and son. Those were the days.
Apparently the spaghetti he made relies more on the herbs than I thought. See, I was making spaghetti for myself and my grandmother, and I called him up to get his recipe. It called for garlic salt, pepper, oil, and two herbs that I can’t remember but have written down. I couldn’t tell if the jars of herbs had gone bad, so I walked up to ask grandma. She insisted that I just make normal spaghetti. Fine.
The trick I had always known was that if the spaghetti sticks to the cabinet when you throw the noodle at it, the spaghetti is ready. This worked after boiling for 5 minutes, but stopped shortly after. I thought the first try was a fluke, and continued boiling the noodles. They weren’t mushy per se, but they were definetly overcooked. I lathered on sauce, and poured on the I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter spray stuff, but the flavor did not return to the noodles.
I guess I’ll leave the pasta to the experts. Just mail me some, dad!
I’ll post that recipe if I unearth the sticky note.