•3 days ago•
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The flour made a small cloud when I poured it onto the counter this morning, catching the early light through the kitchen window. I'd been putting off making fresh pasta for months, maybe years, telling myself I didn't have time or the right tools. But there I was, forming a well in the center of the mound like my grandmother used to do, cracking three eggs into the golden crater.
The dough fought me at first. I'd added too much flour, nervous about stickiness, and spent ten minutes kneading what felt like a stubborn ball of clay. My forearms burned.
This is why people buy dried pasta