Finding myself alone one weekend I decided to drive to my parents’ house for a late lunch. On my way, a sudden craving for Cibo’s penne al telefono snuck up on me so I found myself driving instead to a branch at Promenade in Greenhills. It seemed a perfect day for Italian - the sun was out, tempered by a billowing wind, and thanks to thick cumulus clouds, the air glowed with a gentle suffused light. I chose a table outside to round up my Tuscan sun moment.
I ordered my usual pairing of penne al telefono and iced tea. On other days, I would have replaced the pasta with something different, but I wanted to taste the dish just as I did for the first time. When my order was served, I was surprised to find a heart-shaped focaccia in place of the long one that I had come to expect. The Valentine mood must have gotten to me because even if I was alone, I was feeling the looove.
The penne glistened with a coating of melted mozzarella and the occasional blush of crushed tomatoes, topped with generous shavings of parmigianno regiano and julienned fresh basil. I picked up the pasta with my fork, took pictures of it, and was immediately reminded of what Jack Kerouac called the “naked lunch” moment – a moment when "you see exactly what is on the end of the fork..."
I stared at happiness in the offing while everything else came to a vivid focus. When I finally took a bite, I felt the warmth of something familiar. I felt grateful that with all of life’s variables, I can still rely on certain constants - a soulmate or soul food.
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