My Comfort Food

This post is dedicated to a piece I did for my magazine writing course. My comfort food. The photos were not included in the paper for the course, but I figured I would add some visuals for the blog version! Enjoy!

Everyone has their comfort food. You know, the food you eat when you are tired, or sad, or don’t feel good, or just need a pick-me-up. Most people’s comfort food is probably something standard, like soup or mashed potatoes. Something easy, hot, and, well, comforting. My comfort food is a little outside of the “standard” spectrum.

            The butter is already in the saucepan, melting away into nothing. Water is almost boiling in a big pot on another burner. The ingredients are set out and ready to be mixed into a delicious meal. I take a step back as I’m waiting for the water to boil, and begin to grate the Parmesan cheese into a bowl. It is more difficult than you would think, and as each piece falls into the bowl, the aroma fills the air. Is this water ever going to boil? Once the cheese is grated, about a cup and a half altogether, I sprinkle some Garlic Salt into the saucepan for some flavor. A-ha! The water is boiling so I toss the linguine in, and watch as it begins to swirl amongst the bubbles popping at the surface of the water.

            Next in the saucepan comes the heavy cream. I pour enough in to cover the surface, and whisk it together with the butter. The butter and the cream battle for a moment, light yellow and ivory mixing together furiously. The cream always wins. Once the liquid begins to thicken, I slowly mix in the Parmesan cheese, letting it melt away into the sauce. For a moment, specks of un-melted cheese can be seen scattered about, and then they are gone.

            The pasta is done now, so I pour it into a strainer in the sink. Steam is everywhere. The strainer slowly becomes visible, and the hot delicious linguine is ready for a bowl. I mix in the Alfredo sauce, making sure to get every last drop onto the pasta, and mix them together. The linguine is coated in a perfect ivory sauce. The entire kitchen smells wonderful. I am brought back to Italy for a moment; I can envision the small winding alleys of Venice. Hear the street vendors selling ceramic masks, and wine glasses clinking inside restaurants. Smell the fresh pasta being made in every direction. It is comforting.

            “Ooh that smells delicious! Can I have some?” I am brought back to reality by my roommate. We sit together at the small dining room table, and indulge in my comfort meal together.