Confessions of a Pastaholic - A love story in six chapters

Prologue

Since I can remember eating solid foods, I have liked, no, I have absolutely and unconditionally loved pasta.

Pasta is the food I will always eat: when I am sick, when I first come off a diet, when no other food will appeal to me. Pasta is the food my Mami makes me when I first come home, Pasta is the food my Dad makes me when I first come home, Pasta is the food I make for myself most evenings when I come home.

For other girls it may be chocolate - for a breakup, for PMS, for comfort, as brain food - for me it is Pasta. In any shape, with any sauce, even bad Pasta is good Pasta.

My family and friends call me as the Pasta queen. When coming over for dinner, they expect pasta. They tease me when I serve Pasta (what else?) and are secretly upset (and surprised) if I make something else.

Finally revealed: how it all began…

P.S. Yes, I spell it Pasta on purpose. It deserves to be capitalized.
P.P.S. Yes, I did put the Pasta I used in the picture back in the box. In fact it ended on my dinner plate later that night.