I have been Extremely Online™ in one way or another since the early aughts. If you read Gawker or dnasty and followed other online people like Ultragrrrl or Leigh Lezark or eagerly awaited new dispatches from Last Night’s Party or I Keep A Diary, then we share some 2003-era blogger DNA.
It was in this subculture that I first encountered mention of Marcella Hazan’s pasta sauce, through a party-girl-turned-food-blogger (it was the style at the time). I began to see it everywhere, knowing references to Marcella Hazan’s pasta sauce, and though I never troubled myself to look up the recipe I always, inside my head anyway, sagely nodded to myself in agreement. Ahhh, Marcella Hazan’s pasta sauce. Of course! Yes.
Reader, a confession: after pretending to know what the fuck ass hell (h/t to my high school friend Brian) people were on about for nearly 20 years, I finally looked up the recipe and made the sauce.
Many of you here probably know it is very good and easy to make. I have a good sauce recipe that I like just fine but this one is even more low-maintenance. Excellent for Tuesday evenings! Or whenever.
I made the sauce to use on some pasta with ventrèche left over from New Year’s Eve cassoulet. This week is the bridge between the holiday eating spree and normal eating. I have not made a real shopping list or a dinner plan in three weeks, and I need to get my bearings. I did make these earlier this week and they were fine. And I forgot that December me booked a dinner reservation for this weekend, based on the logic that we would be bored of Christmas foods and feeling humdrum from post-holiday letdown. Thanks past me!
In other Christmas-related news, I bought myself a hand lettering workbook, some pens, and tracing paper. My goal here is not to change careers to professional wedding invitation addresser but to be sort of good at something weird, which is the motivation behind every niche interest I have ever taken.
When I was a little kid, my mom had a crafting group that met at a different member’s house every week. (The members I recall were my mom, two Kathys, and one Diane). I mostly remember this being about macrame, but there were also quilting and tole painting phases. My mom did calligraphy at some point, too, though that may have been on her own. She was good at all of these things, by the way.
In my memory, this has always seemed like a crone-ly pursuit, but my mom was about 35 when it started. They met weekly for years, and I have all the macrame door leprechauns and painted Santas to prove it. I am not sure who will inherit my quilts, knit dishcloths, bad watercolors, and the like. I am sorry to whoever has to deal with all the unfinished projects I will no doubt leave behind. The bad French, at least, I will take to my grave.
My parting recommendation for you this week is the 10-part The Crown sponcon by the Sylvaniandrama, particularly part 9. It’s perf ❤️