Love in a time of noodles

One of my favorite Pasta Party photos from the archives.

One of my favorite Pasta Party photos from the archives.

I begin this post by explaining the point I would like to make using this old proverb: Mighty oaks from tiny acorns grow.

About 25 years ago two friends attended a cooking class where the emphasis was on pasta, and sauces to adorn it. They soon invited a few of us to dinner to evaluate their success. The meals were wonderful.

By some mischievous act of magic this evolved into what is now called, in our circle of friends, the Pasta Party. We don’t recall when we assigned the name to that gathering, but there have been 20 something Pasta Parties. It is an annual event.

This past weekend 24 of us assembled for this year’s event. It was held in Los Angeles, and people came from Blaine, Washington; Chapin, South Carolina; Holmdel, New Jersey; Roseville, California; Spokane, Washington; and Yvette and I from Tucson. The host’s next-door neighbors also attended.

We initiate first-timers by inviting them to improvise silly changes to The Crawdad Song. “You get line, I’ll get a pole, we’ll all go down to the crawdad hole, honey, baby mine.”

Participating in this silliness is refreshing and inspiring.

We had three young ladies of high school age at the dinner. I was delighted that they experienced so many adults having innocent fun and laughter, trusting one another, and being willing to explore goofiness in front of family and friends.

It may be those very traits that have perpetuated The Pasta Party for so many years with so many devoted followers.

I marvel at the tradition that grew from a simple cooking class. The lesson for me is to pay close attention to the small and incidental. I never know what might emerge from these things.

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