We gathered for one final dinner, but first the ladies made pasta di casa (“house pasta”) for the coming week. Mom insisted that I would be good at it, but kneading the big ball of dough was as far as I got. I blame it on my hands being fucked up from all this writing, but it could also be because I lack the ability to exert the delicate pressure needed for rolling noodles; subtlety has never been one of my strong points. Either way, it wasn’t working out and I dismissed myself before it got embarrassing. Truthfully, I blame it on the table; it was too low. Regardless, my pasta making skills are questionable at best.
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| Anna shows her expertise |
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| Working late into the evening |
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| The product |
Questioned was dad’s decision to buy wine for our dinner. Store bought wine? Perish the thought! Among the wine drinkers, Rocco was the lone holdout, referring to the old standby argument that he doesn’t like store bought wine because of the conservanti (“preservatives”). You know what I think about that.
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| L'Ultima Cena - The Last Supper |
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