The first-time Pasta for Rida

That was the first thing that I ever cooked. I remember the first time I made it. My mum’s an excellent cook, but pasta is not something cooks. So when I made it, I didn’t feel any pressure of meeting expectations. I just did it for myself. I didn’t even follow a recipe, I just did whatever I wanted to. It felt liberating! I loved it, and so did everyone else. It was magical.

From that day on, pasta is my favourite food. It’s my comfort food. And although I do not enjoy cooking, I make myself pasta anytime, any day.

My favourite is spaghetti, in any sauce. I love them all.

My experience making, eating and feeding pasta for the first time:

Pasta was the first thing I tried to make for myself as an “independent woman”. With an inspirational thought-It’s pasta, how hard can it be?- I started boiling pasta at 10 pm. I ended up with more pasta than I had made sauce, so I made more sauce, but it was a lot so I needed more pasta. It was like that sloppy scene in a badly made comedy that no one laughs at. By 1 am I had enough cornstarch like tasting fusilli in Alfredo to feed a Marwadi wedding party. The pasta lasted me a whole week after which someone from the office took pity on me and threw it away secretly-“I would like to take ALL of your pasta to my home and eat it there ALONE”
2020 P knows proportions well and freezes extra marinara it to use later!
My favorite pasta sauce is Red with the side of White. Not pink. I don’t know why it has not been discovered yet. Each helps you change the palette so you are not having too much tangy or creamy at one go.
When I asked Rida for photos for the post she sent me 11 photos of pasta! and a few heartwarming photos of her with her mother. After which she said “I am really thrilled and excited that you’re going to post something of me on your page, or are even thinking about it” and I felt the same. This is it, the project and my life are endeavors to be a part of another life, making people a part of mine. The message and this thought kept me warm for days.

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My therapist once told me that I am a ‘child-adult’ who is a child who was forced to become an adult too soon. So while I was trying to play the ‘woman of the house’ at 10, I actually grew into the part recently. I finally accumulated enough experiences and insights to be an ‘adult adult’ that incurred authority and respect. I cherish this possibility & chance to be able to give back, teach something to the people who raised me. The feather in this cap is teaching mummy to respect her mental health. It gave me a chance to become friends with papa, joke with him, tell him if he goes wrong and most importantly ask for alcohol from him!