shattered mess

I came home to find my remaining dried pasta cracked and shattered, much of it having fallen off the clothes hangers. This isn't too tragic since I plan to make lasagna next, and you don't need perfectly rectangular pieces to do that. Putting a bunch of shattered pieces together is no big deal, and by the time the lasagna is done cooking, it won't matter how the lasagna looked before it went into the oven. Lasagna makers use broken pieces all the time. As for how wrinkly the above pieces look: a quick bath in boiling water ought to straighten everything out.

From tragedy shall come glory. But first, I need to make a meat sauce.

Oh, and December 23 is next week, so I've got to prep that filet mignon luncheon. To that end, I visited a new butcher shop that just sprang up in my building. They have really nice cuts of filet without all the disturbing lumps and chunks of fat that were in the filet I got from the butcher in our building's basement. That makes me hopeful, and I'll swing by their place on Monday to make my purchase. They already know I want 300-gram steaks; they just don't know how many. (Four. That's 1.2 kg.)

Crap—come to think of it, I might have to put off the lasagna until after Christmas. A lasagna plus a steak luncheon in the same week—that's asking a bit much.