Page 20 of Savoring Christmas
“It’s too bad we can’t have youth and that perspective at the same time,” Abby said.
Wasn’t that the truth?
When all the pasta was in balls and resting, Mia turned her attention to the sauce. “While the dough relaxes, we’ll start on the lemon butter white wine sauce. It’s quick, so timing matters.”
She set a skillet on the burner at her station. “Butter first, with a little olive oil so it doesn’t burn. Medium heat—don’t let it get too hot, or the butter will brown before we want it to.”
The butter foamed lightly. She tossed her chopped garlic into the pan. Immediately, the tangy aroma wafted up from the pan. “Remember not to get the pan too hot. You want a quiet sizzle.”
“No shouting garlic,” Logan said.
“Good. You’re remembering your lesson from class one,” Mia said. “Especially with butter, it’s easy to burn both it and the garlic.”
“That smells incredible already,” Kris said. “Please don’t mind my growling stomach.”
“Wine’s next,” Mia said, pouring in a half cup. The liquid hissed against the pan. “Let it simmer for two or three minutes to reduce. We just want the flavor.”
When it was time, she added lemon zest and juice. “Zest for fragrance, juice for brightness. Don’t overdo it or the sauce will turn bitter.”
At Logan’s station, his zest was stubbornly clinging to the microplane. “Mine’s all stuck.”
“Tap the side to knock it loose,” Mia said, coming over to show him. “There you go.” Her arm brushed his, sending tingles up her spine.
“Is that better?” Logan glanced down at her, and their gazes locked once more. His eyes were such a remarkable shade of blue. Almost like the sky at twilight.
She swallowed. “Yes, much.”
Once the sauce had come together, she had them all roll out their pasta and try cutting it into strips. Soon enough, they all had completed the task. They’d all done remarkably well for their first time, even if the pieces were of varying lengths.
“Cook your pasta until just al dente, then move it straight into the pan,” Mia said. “Save a little of the pasta water—it’ll loosen the sauce and help it cling to the noodles.”
When their pastas had cooked, she had them combine it with the sauce.
“Plate it and we’ll taste together,” Mia said. “I want everyone to sample one another’s dishes, so grab six forks from the stack here.”
Once the pasta was plated, Mia encouraged everyone to bring their dishes to the tables they’d pushed together. “Let’s try them while they’re hot. Pasta waits for no one.” She had a sudden image of her mother serving her a bowl of pasta. When had that been? And where? The memory of the long forgotten meal remained at the edges of her mind. If only she could have one more night with her mother. What a gift it was to share a meal with someone you loved.
They settled in, plates steaming in front of them, the warm light catching the hesitation and hope on each face. Cannoli settled at Mia’s feet under the table. Logan’s noodles looked surprisingly uniform for someone who’d sworn he could barely boil water. Abby’s sauce was bright and well-seasoned, with the kind of zest that promised her kids would clean their plates.
Kris bragged about his own dish. “I can already see Maria’s face when I surprise her with a bowl of this.”
Reese took a small, careful bite and actually relaxed her shoulders when she swallowed, as if the simple act of nourishing herself without guilt was a small victory.
“Now comes the fun part,” Mia said, gesturing with her fork. “Pass your plates around. Everyone gets a taste of the same dish, but notice how different they all turned out.”
They tried Harold’s first. The noodles were slightly thicker than Mia’s demonstration but had a satisfying chew, and the sauce clung perfectly.
“This is very well done,” Mia said. “Perfect balance of ingredients in your sauce too.”
Harold’s chest puffed with quiet pride. “Why, thank you kindly, Miss Mia. I struggled to get my noodles thin but I guess they turned out all right.”
On the other hand, Reese’s noodles had come out remarkably thin. Thelma sampled Reese’s delicate creation, the pasta almost translucent and the lemon butter sauce light as air. “Oh, honey,this is like eating sunshine,” Thelma said. “How did you get your noodles so fine?”
Reese’s cheeks flushed pink. “I just kept rolling and rolling. I guess I’m used to precision from dancing.”
When Reese tried Thelma’s version, her eyes widened. The noodles were substantial, almost rustic in their thickness, swimming in a sauce rich with butter. “This is comforting,” Reese said softly. “I’ve never thought of food in that way.”
Thelma reached over and patted her hand. “That must be very difficult.”
