Swiss Chard (or Spinach) Pesto Pasta
|
|
|
My father would be in the kitchen, cooking away and humming along to the music with my mother sitting at the kitchen table working on her math equations. She was a mathematician at York University, a fitting job for her calculating, logical personality. My father was also a mathematician and York University, but unlike his wife, had a more empathetic and emotional personality. He was the one I went to with all the touchy-feely stuff. So, he’d be in the kitchen, pasta maker set up with flour dusted over the counter.
“Feel like lending a hand?” He’d ask. He always had a way of making me feel smart, never talking down to me like most adults do to kids. He made me feel like I could help him, instead of being a nuisance he’d have to look after. I’d help him with the pasta, and even if it came out looking like a pasta-coloured turd he’d still tell me I did a great job. Once the pasta was all put together, my parents, my sister, my brother, and I sat around the table, and I’m not sure if tastes are inherited, but that was the best damn pasta to ever grace my tastebuds. Nowadays, the recipe has changed a bit, we buy pasta at the store, and we use fresh spinach instead of cooked Swiss chard, but the flavor and memories remain unchanged. |