It was day four of the quarantine when Johann’s father, apropos of nothing, delivered a pasta maker to our apartment.
“Dad’s here,” Johann said, as I came out of the shower.
I did a double take. This was news to me. Seeing as how I recently traveled to Southeast Asia by way of Ukraine, our household wasn’t accepting visitors, least of all his 60-year old father.
“He wants to give us the pasta maker,” Johann explained.
“What pasta maker?” I asked.
Johann shrugged. “My dad has a pasta maker.”
“Why does he have a pasta maker?” I asked.
Johann shrugged again. “He has a pasta maker,” he repeated, like I hadn’t heard him the first time and this would clear it up.
“Well he shouldn’t come in,” I said.
“He’s not going to come in,” Johann agreed. “He just wants to drop off the pasta maker.”
“Stop calling it that,” I snapped.
“Stop calling it what?” Johann asked. “Isn’t that what it is? A pasta maker?”
“No ‘the’ pasta maker,” I corrected, using air quotes. “Like it belongs here.”
Johann sometimes does this: he pretends like we’ve already discussed something when he knows full well that we did not and that, more importantly, if we did, I would not have agreed to whatever he was angling for in the first place. Referring to things as “the whatever” is one of his favorite ways to try and sneak something into our apartment: the plant stand; the wine rack; the six-piece sound system equivalent to our rent. I came home from Malaysia and one of the first things Johann said to me was “I got the countertop herb garden going,” like that was on my to-do list.
“No one asked me if I wanted a pasta maker,” I complained.
Johann sighed. “Do you want a pasta maker?”
“I do not,” I answered.
“Why not?” he said.
Why not? Johann could not be serious. We are at the outset of a weeks-long quarantine, his work and school both closed, and he wants to me, a person who doesn’t even like to cook, to make noodles by hand. I, meanwhile, have no shortage of actual things to do. As a self-employed, work-from-home marketing professional I am stressed about an impending economic collapse. But before that happens, I am stressed by an avalanche of special assignments as every client seems to want to rewrite their entire messaging platform and at least a few blogs besides. I find it a little unsettling that in the midst of all this personal and professional turmoil, Johann has decided that what our household needs is a device that complicates spaghetti. This is a modern-day Trojan Horse—except instead of being packed with warriors and weapons and rolled through the gates by a bunch of morons, it arrived by Smart car and is going to wreak havoc by spewing flour all over my kitchen floor.
I was sitting on the couch when Johann came back through the door holding the pasta maker. It was still in its original packaging, which happened to be in German, and appeared to be from the 1970s. It weighed roughly 20 pounds and when Johann took it out of the box, I couldn’t help but notice that it was shaped like an anvil. He put it on the couch, where it immediately cratered a cushion. It made me wonder: With all this talk of social distancing, just who is posing a risk to whom? I know everyone’s worried about me making them ill, but no one seems to be considering the effects of introducing a pasta maker into a two-room apartment that is on a 24-hour lockdown. One of us might not make it out alive and that’s not because of a virus. Think about that! Risk takes many forms!
“Pasta is supposed to be really easy to make,” Johann said as he thumbed through a sheet of instructions that were written in Danish.
“Well if you’re just boiling it, sure,” I agreed.
“It’s just flour and eggs,” he continued, ignoring me. He took the crank out of the box and pantomimed what looked suspiciously like digging a grave. “Like this,” he said. “Boop boop boop, pasta.”
“Yep,” I said. “That’s how pasta is made. Boop boop boop.”
He glared at me from across the room.
“Fine,” I said. “You want to waste all the eggs on something we already have in the cupboard, that’s fine. Let’s make pasta. I need a blog post anyway.”
And we all need a laugh right now so stay tuned for part two of the great pasta adventure! As time allows, I’ll try to update more often – for your entertainment and mine.
I’m crying. I can totally see this interchange and can’t wait for part deux.
<3 thank you. no updates yet. thankfully.
Hilarious! Thank you for the laugh! 😀
I can see how in part two, we will be introduced to Johann‘s mother. Turns out, The Pasta Maker is part of her plan to transform her future daughter-in-law into a domestic goddess. In an unexpected plot twist, her perfect plan backfires.
<3. No part two yet. i actually have no idea where the pasta maker is and i'd like to keep it that way. that said, i am thinking about making biscuits. will keep you posted. xx
This is funny, and a bit scary.
Tell him, if he wants pasta, he makes pasta. That gets you off the hook twice.
that’s a good one! xx
“…looked suspiciously like digging a grave.” BEST. Thank you for this much needed lol.
<3 thank you!! we all need an lol these days. speaking of: TIGER KING. I am in awe!!! everyone needs to watch it and then we have a discussion Zoom. like a book club, but with a big cat documentary.
I must try that “the” technique. I wonder how it’d take the man in my life to catch on :-D
i can tell you that it took me a while. like when did i say we need to make “the pasta”? when? i never in my life have said “let’s carb load.” never. sorry if that sounds like a brag, but it’s really just a digestion problem. so. OK! let me know how it goes. xx