Matt and I were given a pasta machine for our engagement. We've never used it. Given we just celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary, you do the math. It's been sitting in its box calling me ever since we unwrapped it.
Today I got brave and cracked it open. The Doctor and I got into a bit of pasta making. And a bit more pasta making. It was harder than I thought. No wonder I felt intimidated.
Eggs went everywhere. Flour went everywhere. The dough was so tough. Too tough to knead. But we persevered. Finally I retired the dough. The kids were having more fun feeding it through the machine. Over and over and over again. I felt a bit deflated until I told Tiny to stop adding more flour - and she responded with: "But I have to keep Mastercheffing!" Alrighty then.
Any Italian mamas got the key to being Strega Nona with Big Anthony as my side-kick?