pasta night once again

No need to hold court on the medicinal qualities of pie, as this fact has been well established in the glowing recesses of this here blog. ( See here and here , and most notably here.)

But a new culinary experience has nudged its way into the front of the healing line recently, and that is pasta with authentic Italian sauce. For which we give copious thanks.

The kind folk at the Old Stone House (ahem: the LOTM and the Lady of the same) have cooked up a number of pots 'o sauce & pasta this winter season, courtesy of the Chef Down the Road who has an Italian moniker that we like to fool around with. His name is Puglia, which rhymes with Julia.

But we call him Poogs. Not to be confused with Poods, which is the nickname of #1 Daughter.

But back to the food. Last evening there were over 20 faces around the table consuming three varieties of sauce: pork, chicken & veal. Far be it from me not to mention the platter of mini brownie cheescakes that found their way into our mouths.

The winters are long up here. And dark. The precious daylight we receive is often bleak and stingy, which means cause for celebration when the sun turns golden and streaks across the dazzling snow for an afternoon. I have seen grown people shed a tear when we have a brief thaw, even though that means we trade up to mud.

But mud smells like dirt and dirt means spring and spring means gardens and possibly outdoor walks and outdoor walks bring renewed energy & hope.

Outdoors walks also bring health to life & limb that have possibly consumed way too much pasta & cheesecake in the late hours of the night.

-and for this we also give thanks.