Chapter 5

Finally the water boiled, and into one pot he dropped the kufteh, and in the other two pounds of gemelli. He loved the texture of its thickness, nearly gummy, and was delighted to find it in the cupboards, though given how much pasta was there, it was hardly surprising. Setting them on the back burners, he poured oil into a very large saucepan and set it to warm as he drained and rinsed the lentils. He pressed a half dozen cloves of garlic into the oil, adding the lentils, two bay leaves, a good handful of tiny capers, and a sprinkling of crushed red pepper. He stirred this over a medium heat until the garlic was browned and everything seemed heated through, and he turned it off and covered it. He checked the gemelli, but they still needed a minute or two, so he got out the colander and placed it in the sink.

First he drained the kufteh and put them back in the pot, turning on the deep fryer. Then he drained the pasta, not too assiduously, and turned the pasta and bit of water into the pan with the lentil mixture, stirring it all together. As he suspected he might, he heard stirrings from the couch and inquired quietly ‘Are you awake?’ ‘Sort of,’ she replied, ‘I was dreaming Anthony was here and then I smelled wonderful food odours…’ He chuckled, going over to her and kissing her on the cheek. ‘Open your eyes, tesoro, I’m really here, and I’m making some supper for us.’

He heard some ooomphing from her direction, and went over to see what was happening. Sitting up, she was holding her stomach and breathing a bit shortly. He held a hand out to her, and pulled her upright and towards him. As they embraced, he felt her fullness press against his chest, and her softness envelop him everywhere else. He moaned softly into her ear, and she wriggled closer, snuggling into his neck.

With great difficulty, he whispered that he had to go tend the meal, settling her in her chair. Again he watched with delight as she shifted her rolls and mounds, tucking fabric in between them, making them settle comfortably, and when she was done he went back into the kitchen. The oil in the fryer was up to temp, so he plopped the kufteh in a few at a time, and laid paper towelling out on a baking sheet for when they were done. When he had finished frying the whole bag, he patted the tops with more paper towel and mounded them up in a big bowl. He turned the heat on under the pasta briefly, tossing it to make sure it was warm throughout, turning that into another large serving bowl, and bringing both over to her.

He pulled the table over to her, and she blushed. ‘Thank you—I don’t really like those chair.’ ‘I can imagine, but don’t worry, this is just as easy. I’ll be right back with plates and silverware.’ She reached out and took a kufteh from the bowl as she waited, bit into it, and called out to him, ‘The kufteh are perfect, what did you do?’ ‘I boiled them first, and then deep-fried them, just for the texture.’ ‘I’ve always done one or the other, and never been completely happy with either. This is an inspiration.’

He brought over two pasta bowls, filling each amply, and studding them with kufteh. She noticed with surprise that his serving was as large as hers, but didn’t say anything. She brought a forkful of pasta to her lips, watching him watch her every move, and the look on her face as she tasted it thrilled him. ‘This is so good, Anthony. So simple and clean, but a perfect combination of flavours. Do you ever make a mistake in the kitchen?’ He looked away shyly, and answered, ‘It’s because you are an inspiration, carissima. I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman in my life, and it makes me so happy to cook for you.’