Copy Pastas Novels & Stories

I head to the Greek restaurant where Nek and I ate some days ago. “This looks nice” I mutter as I look at a picture of the Pastitsio, which is a baked pasta dish made with ground meat, macaroni, and a creamy béchamel sauce, topped with grated cheese. “Can I have the Pastitsio” I say, handing the menu to the waiter. He nods and excuses himself. In about 10 minutes, the waiter arrives with my food, which is faster than when Nek and I ate here. We waited for more than 15 minutes, there was probably something wrong in the kitchen that must have caused the delay.

"You always know how to raise the bar for hospitality." "Please, I was born to host. Also, you’ve been working yourself into the ground and spiraling in three different emotional directions. The cure is pasta." She drops her tote on the hook by the door, kicks off her shoes, and sighs the sigh of someone who finally gets to exhale. "You should be declared a national treasure." "Tell Sullivan that. I’m still waiting for my journalist’s medal of valor." The pasta is nearly done, and the sauce, a Jamie Torres Original™ blend of tomatoes, basil, red wine, and enough garlic to ward off an entire nest of vampires, simmers on the stove. I toss in a sprinkling of freshly ground pepper for drama.

It also has a small leaf of some plant, I know its purpose is only for plating. I lifted the fork I was holding and took a bite of the pasta. My saliva pooled and mixed with the pasta in my mouth. It tastes like heaven. "It's delicious, how much is it?" "The pasta costs $4000 and the steak is more or less $5500," answered Marcov. The fork I was holding fell to my plate, making an attention-grabbing sound, causing people to stare at me. I was holding the outside of my throat because I choked. I coughed and coughed.

Estelle’s POV I made pasta. Butter and parmesan for Lucas—his reliable safe food, the meal he’d eat when he wouldn’t eat anything else. Tomato sauce for Chloe, who wanted everything red and would probably request ketchup on her birthday cake. We sat at the table. Chloe twirled her pasta with focus, loading each forkful. Lucas pushed his around his plate, dragging the fork through the butter in long slow lines, making tracks in the parmesan without lifting any of it to his mouth.

I watched him drive away before walking to the wide familiar gates that was filled with the bubbly laughter of the children. *** "Miss Isla,can I get another cookie? This one has only one chocolate chip on it but Jax and Norma's have two chocolate chips." A little voice said and I looked up at the cute little angel staring at me with puppy eyes and a pout on her lips. Muffin toppings clung to her cheeks and eye lashes but her clothes were surprisingly clean. "You can get as many cookies as you can, sport." I smiled while handing her another cookie with two chocolate chips. "Just don't tell the others."

Elvis looked at Joseph awkwardly. Joseph said, "I could only make plain pastas." Elianna said, "Then thank you for your trouble." After speaking, she sat down on the sofa. Joseph said to Elvis, "You go first." Elvis said, "Mr. Kensington, do you need me to lend a hand?" Joseph said, "No need." It's just a bowl of assorted vegetarian pastas, without many complicated steps, just takes some time. What is this called? It is easy to ask for the gods, but difficult to send them away.

"Pasta alla puttanesca. Hope you like capers and olives. It’s… robust." "Robust sounds good," I admitted, the aroma making my mouth water in a way I hadn’t felt in weeks. "Need a hand?" He looked startled, then pleased. "Sure. You can…" He scanned the counter. "...toss the salad? Dressing’s in the fridge."

Let's pray no other fashion house discovers her in the space of two months. Karis could see that she was done talking. There was no point in trying to argue the matter with her, instead, he dug into his pasta again, and this time, he put the pasta he had trapped with the chopsticks into his mouth. Once again, she had been right with what she ordered for him, it was just what he needed.

Massimo said with amused smile. "Faceva sempre la pasta per Grace e Grace non ha mai avuto nient'altro sotto il nome di pasta. È ovvio che la desidera ma non riesce a ricordare. Dom l'ha capito.)"....(He was always making pasta for Grace and Grace has never had anything else under the name of pasta. It's obvious she wants it but can't remember. Dom figured it out.) Grace frowned when she couldn't understand anything. "Wow!"

I’d make myself sick if I tried to eat too much without pacing myself , it’ll take me a while before I can eat as vigorously as I’d like to. “Umm I’m not sure, I’m ok with scraps I don’t need much… if that’s not too much to ask for?” I couldn’t be greedy, they have plenty of people to look after and feed let alone worrying about feeding me on top of that. Tristan looked shocked for a second as he took my hand and started to walk towards what I presume to be the kitchen.