Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 129986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
“I can’t wait,” she says with a smile as I head for the hall.
“Neither can I.”
I lose my smile as soon as I’m out of her sight. Giving my bedroom door a push, I haul my heavy-ass backpack inside, trying not to think how I’ll find time to finish my homework. I started it at lunch like I have every day of this school year, but lunch isn’t long enough to put a very big dent in my workload.
I guess I’m staying up late again.
It’s what I have to do most nights in order to get everything done, but most nights I don’t have to do as much cooking as I do tonight.
Oh well.
Complaining about it—even just in my own head—won’t change anything, so I shove down the stirrings of fatigue I’m already feeling after a long day of school, and head to the bathroom for a nice, refreshing shower.
After my shower, I tie my hair up in a cute ponytail with an orange scarf, then I head to my room. I put on a white, airy peasant-style sundress—the kind I’d wear traversing the cobbled streets of Italy if we could afford such an expensive vacation. I grab my favorite sunglasses and put them on top of my head, also like I would if we were sightseeing today and the sun was still up for a few more hours.
As I make my way out to the living room, I pull up YouTube on my phone and start the first loop of Italian background music I picked to play while I cook dinner.
Mom grins as soon as the lovely music starts playing and turns to look up at me as I enter the room. “Mood music?”
“Feels like you’re in Italy listening to it, doesn’t it? Now, come to the kitchen, let’s get the smells going.” Pausing, I wait to see if she needs help, but it must be a good day today because she makes it to the center island without any trouble.
“You don’t have to hover,” she tells me as she takes a seat. “If I need help, I’ll ask.”
“All right.” I know she’s a little sensitive about it, so I don’t want to make a fuss. Instead, I dust that comment right under the rug and start collecting ingredients. “I’m going to start with the gelato since it takes the longest in the freezer.”
It wouldn’t take as long if we had an ice cream maker, but we do not, and buying one just for this was definitely not in the budget. I pull out the gelato tubs I ordered on Amazon, a pair of them for $15. That was more within my budget, so the long way it is.
Mom sits at the island and we talk and listen to music while I get the gelato started. Once that’s done, I dump it in the container and put it in the freezer, then I set the first alarm.
Next, we make a mess on the counter making pasta from scratch. It’s a laborious task, but at least the pasta this recipe calls for can be made without a pasta machine. I only needed a cheap pack of bamboo skewers, and Mom enjoys helping me shape it until we have enough for dinner.
I’m trying to do everything as traditionally as possible, so instead of a food processor, I grab a mortar and pestle for the assembly of the sauce. Mom laughs, thinking I’m joking.
“Nope, we’re doing it old school,” I tell her as I drop garlic in and get to crushing.
Turns out, that process sucks. My arm is not happy, but I keep at it until I need a break, then I grab the pecorino cheese and grate some in the bowl.
My alarm goes off, so I have to pause to mix the gelato. Then I’m back at it, adding basil and a pinch of salt. Before long, we have two plates of authentic Italian pesto alla Trapanese.
“This looks incredible,” Mom says, reaching for her plate, but I tell her to go sit down and I’ll bring it to her. She starts to object, but I cut her off with a firm raise of my eyebrow.
“If we were in Italy, a hunky Italian waiter would be serving you. Under no circumstances would you be serving yourself. I don’t want to hear it.”
Reluctantly, she goes in and sits down. While the pasta was cooking, I made quick work of setting a table for two with a white linen tablecloth and a candle in the center.
I bring in our dinner and a plate of sliced Italian bread. I grab us goblets of water and the wine that paired best with this pasta, then I start the next music playlist and we enjoy a nice dinner.
After dinner is over, I clear the table, move it out of the way, and turn on our first movie of the night, Oceans 12.