Linguini Ratatouille Novels & Stories

I hurriedly got on g****e and dialed her number. "Hello?" she answered. "So, what's the recipe?" "Oh thank god! It's Rigatoni with Marinara Sauce and Ricotta." "Ri... ga... to.... ni.... Will you say it slower? I didn't quite get it." "Rigatoni with..." "With..." "Marinara Sauce." "Ma... ri... na... ra... wait, what the hell is a marinara sauce?" "Just type." "Fine. Marinara sauce and?" "Ricotta."

My words make him even angrier; it's so evident. Martina glares at me from her position while Ashley returns and places plates, cutlery, a napkin, and glasses she carries on a tray. “Thank you,” I say when she sets my food down in front of me, takes the wine, pours me a bit, and then withdraws. “I hope you like the Ratatouille,” Evelina says before exchanging a look with her daughter. “I tried one of the best at The Core in London. Are you familiar with it?”

“She’ll do a water as well. “I guess, I’ll just have a glass then instead of the bottle,” Lincoln says. The waitress walks away to get our drinks. “Since when do not have wine with your meals?” “Since I was prescribed heavy pain killers for my back spasms since I was attacked by a psycho,” Mommy says. “Now, you may like either the spaghetti aglio e olio, or Pasta alla Norma, or the amatriciana.” “That ama one is yummy. It’s like the carba no no, but with red tomato sauce,” I remember. Anton got me that the first time we ate here, and he had the carba no no and let me try it.

With each bite of her, he had to control himself not to moan. Dinner consisted of Bucatini all ' amatriciana, a type of thicker spaghetti with a hole in the middle, served with a tomato-based sauce, guanciale (bacon type) and pecorino cheese; as protein, he opted for a veal steak breaded and fried in butter, Cotoletta alla Milanese. The dessert was tiramisu. It was one of Lina's favorite desserts and she smiled when she saw it. “Apparently, that pleased you,” he said.

She let out a little hum of pleasure. “This is divine. It’s so tender, it just disappears.” Luca carved a piece for himself, nodding in approval. “Saltimbocca means ‘jumps in the mouth.’ Apt, isn’t it?” She smiled between bites. “More like dances.” He reached for the side dish, spearing a golden piece of potato. “Here, try this. Patate al Rosmarino.” Yasmine tasted it, and her eyes widened again. The crisp edges gave way to a fluffy inside, perfumed with rosemary and just a hint of garlic.

Aunty Ely said filled with enthusiasm as she stood up to greet us. She hugged and kissed mom and Clea while I recieved a "Hello" and a quick hug. I bowed to show respect to Uncle Arnold. I sat next to Clea. I placed the napkin they provided on my lap. They started serving the foods. My eyes widened in fractions and my jaws were slightly dropped the moment I saw what they were serving. Louis XIII Pizza. Lobster Frittata. Bluefin Tuna. Cranberry-Blue Cheese Balls. And some dishes I couldn't even name. Quel's eyes met mine. He winked and pointed at the White Truffles. He winked at me. My f*cking favorite.

But then, the experience was all worth it, right? "And this is?" question of International Chef, Georgia Linton. "Bucatani All'Amatriciana, madame," I said without stammering. "As what I can see, this is just another version of cooking pasta." His tone was tinged with diminutiveness. My hands trembled on my back. But I still met the gaze of the jurors. Especially with Chef Linton. I smiled nervously. "Yes it is, madame. It's my own version of cooking this classic dish by tossing the long hallow pastra strands with cured guanciale and special spicy tomato sauce."

The clearing of his throat made me snap my eyes up to his face, where I found him watching me stare at him in amusement. “What are you thinking about ordering?” he asked, and I was grateful he didn’t mention me staring at him. “The salmon en papillote,” I told him. “It’s my favorite.” I closed the menu and set it aside. “What about you?” “I’m deciding between the ratatouille and the cock ow vin.” I snickered and covered my mouth to hide my laugh. “What?” he asked, furrowing his brow. “It’s not—” I giggled. “It’s ‘coq au vin,’” I told him, dragging out the words so he could hear the proper pronunciation.

I needed it to be able to hold the night with me being as nervous as I was. “Fate, aye? I vaguely remember the two of us almost eating one another’s heads off” “Well, the two of us tend to eat each other’s faces, but you know…” “Dante” Aurora scolded as a waitress approached us with our food. Having preordered it, they already knew what to bring before we came. Aurora shook her head, seeing the pasta linguine which was placed in front of her. The red sauce’s smell filled my nostrils as the oregano’s smell mixed with garlic told me that this was going to be good. They placed the parmesan cheese between us, and put my fettucine in front of me.

Eve then stretched from her seat after some minutes of silence to explain. “It was the fastest we could get, seeing that there’s an Italian restaurant not too far away. That one that looks like soup somehow is called minestrone. That one is called Penne all’arrabbiata, my favorite! The third one is called cacciuco. You should know the spaghetti. And The last is risotto. They’re all nice actually, Italian is a regular in our family.” I smiled at her as I stared at the food, not having the heart to complain.