Copy Pastas の小説・ストーリー

Al smiled slyly down at his plate. “Including your dinosaur republic,” I added. Al’s smile disappeared. “That’s not fair.” “Democracy hurts.” Rafael set his bread roll on his plate, then looked at Gabby, who was still holding out a tiny forkful of pasta. “You want me to eat that?” Gabby nodded very seriously. “It’s royal pasta. I bless it.” I took another piece of chicken. “Never accept food blessed by a four-year-old. That’s how cults start.”

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!"

Her mood swiftly changed. “You know what, instead of the same boring pasta and sauce, why don’t I teach you different forms of pasta?” “What!!!!!! But what will we do with all that food? Because there are up to ten forms of pasta! Mozzarella pasta, cheesy pasta, risotto, lasagna, fusilli, penne, spaghetti Bolognese, mac and cheese, Alfredo, and ravioli!” “Hmm, you are right. We shouldn’t just waste it. Why don’t we share it with the street or people?”

Error 404. Was she so hard up for naked adult time that seeing a man’s chest sent her over the edge? And for fuck’s sake, she was having plain pasta and sauce with no meat or vegetables or even cheese. Okay, there was a little bit of cheese. Frozen, grated cheese she’d found in the back of her freezer. The pasta was now a pasta bake after she threw the pasta sauce into the pasta, gave it a stir, and dumped it into a casserole dish before sprinkling it with the aforementioned frozen cheese. But still…it wasn’t exactly a gourmet meal. Jack was going to think she was some sort of…she didn’t even know what.

She had gone to the grocery store with Cora, who helped her buy the ingredients for the dish she had decided to make and had gotten her hands dirty in the process, literally. However, things didn't go exactly as she had imagined. Making potato gnocchi seemed so simple in the recipe, but when she decided to taste a piece, she ended up spitting it out in the trash because the texture was absolutely awful. She considered cooking spaghetti or penne instead, even though it wasn't her original idea, just to salvage the sauce, but after trying it, she threw the wooden spoon into the sink with frustration because it had turned out too salty.

Probably because they're shaped like cylinders instead of rectangles. Pasta. Three kinds. The children get butter pasta. Simple. Perfect. Risotto. Creamy. Rich. Chicken. Fish. Vegetables that don't look like vegetables. Look like art. Sophie orders more prosecco. "We haven't finished these bottles," Morton observes. "We will. The night is young." "It's two-thirty in the afternoon." "Exactly. Young." Scarlett reaches for her glass. Drinks. It's her third glass. Or fourth. I've lost count.

It was thick and hard like an ATM card with some words chiseled on it. It has a six digit number on it, and a logo of a two tulip flower entangled on each other. Serene read the words on top of the ticket. “Casa Roma.” “The Casa Roma was the prestigious hotel freshly built on the Vianca Island. I'm sure you already heard about that island in the east. I stayed there once and they have the best wine ever in the whole continent. It's a good thing they built an official hotel on that place because resort houses was a bit old fashioned for me.” Sydney had gone through the Vianca Island after college graduation. She met few hunks there, but the tourists on the Vianca Island mostly are womanizer.

But for some reason when she saw the pastas, her appetite became drastically increased and she couldn't wait to eat the very tantalizing cheese pasta in front of her. "Eat. You must be hungry." Without being ordered twice, Eden immediately grabbed her fork and immediately ate the pasta voraciously. The soft taste of the cheese feels so right when combined with the chewy fettucini type of pasta to which a few pinches of European spices have been added.

a guy said, his head bending over a book. "Umm...sooo, Do you guys have Pasta? I mean, I would like to have Pasta and some Salad, one plate." He appeared to be focused on the book. Poor customer service, I noted. "In a paper bag please, I'm taking it home." Seriously, Soph, he doesn't care where you are taking it too! "Eww," he said. "What?"

I sent Regina another email asking her to bring more food and coffee for me. What I tasted of the pasta was not to my taste. Yet, the carbonara and Cordon Bleu remain here, and the lasagna that Faye eats on the floor. “Hmm…” I groaned as I got up and picked up her resume. I tore it apart loudly. What I did astounded her. I stopped to clean up the lasagna mess on the floor using her résumé. “Rome?!” her surprised reaction, “why did you do that? Printing is expensive!”