Mangia!

My modus operandi, is “I’ll try anything once”.

It’s that same mantra that’s had me take up pickleball, try Greek dancing, and give speaking French another shot after almost twenty years. The same mantra has also led me to the Ring of Daisies open mic stage at the New York Poetry Festival. All of this happened in the last year.

But this experience was something quite different.

Though, I’m getting ahead of myself here.

On April 20th, my sister messaged me in the middle of the work day. She shared with me a reel from New York Bucket List. Of a pasta-making experience at the restaurant Aunt Jake’s. It would be a combination pasta-making class and a three-course lunch. She asked if I was interested in doing something like this. I couldn’t say yes fast enough, as plates of pasta are a love language. Next to boarding passes, glasses of wine, and window views from airplanes.

The weeks passed and there we were last Sunday morning. At Aunt Jake’s front door on the Upper East Side.

I was nervous upon sitting down, as I had awkward memories of the last time that I tried to cook anything in my mind. Last September, I was part of a Greek cooking lesson during a fourteen-day trip to Greece. It was one of my moments of bravura aided by a table full of wine. I tried my hand at making zucchini balls, but it wasn’t working out, compared to everyone else.

Flashing back to today, the stations were already set up. Our orders for lunch were taken before the class began. A glass of Prosecco helped keep the nerves at bay.

The class had begun, and so did the awkwardness. For one, I didn’t crack one of the eggs into the bowl of flour but onto the table. I was having trouble rolling and pressing the dough into the bowl. But I was determined to keep up. My sister could see it in my eyes, the frustration with the situation was beginning to build up.

Eight different shapes of pasta were made during the class and we got to take the dough home with us. Though mine sits in the fridge, as I don’t know what to do with it. I do not have enough confidence in myself to turn on the stove at home, lest I burn the house down by sheer ineptitude. I did the best I could and tried to remind myself that everyone else in the room wasn’t a professional chef either.

After the class was done, it was time to relax and have lunch. The gray skies that started the day had now turned to blue skies and sunshine.

As I tucked into my bowl of Caccio e Pepe, one particular memory came back. Sitting in a restaurant in Florence during the Italy trip in 2022 having this same dish for dinner as a dozen Italian women sat at the next table over. I didn’t dare to go over and try and say hello.

It was nice to have my sister’s company for the afternoon, as I’ve been doing all the things mentioned at the start on my own. We don’t remember exactly when the last time we did something together was, as the trip to Puerto Rico in 2021 came up.

As I headed to the subway while my sister headed uptown, I felt a sense of accomplishment. Though what I had done was imperfect and inedible, I at least made the effort to try something new. I wouldn’t mind doing this again.

One of these days, I’ll find something to stick with and be good at doing. Other than spending my days scrolling, writing and working.

Hopefully, a sense of community will emerge where I won’t feel so alone.

This was a moment of Mangia! on a Sunday afternoon in June.