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I am not entirely sure what this might be. I accidentally stumbled upon it and became intensly curious. After all, my water is headed toward the boil. I imagine that the spaghetti, if it could process thought, would be fearing the next 30 mins. If it were a prognosticator, the spaghetti would dred the next hour! The only consolation to be found for my poor unfortunate pasta is shortly before its demise, into a tissue encased gastric pool (closely resembling THE worst nightmare a foodstuff might have), it will partake of a homely and inviting marinara sauce. The meat accompanying the red sauce, though drastically altered from its former self, shall dance, in delight, with pasta. Together, they shall create for me a dance to last the evening. And, if I'm lucky, or get full really fast, the dance shall continue into the morrow as well. Spaghetti Bolognese, "...you's my only friend!"
Wow! I had no idea I could post stright from my FB-if you only knew; I've been taking the long way! Very cool...very cool, indeed!
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