Pasta in My Fashion

Pasta: as intricate on the palate as aboriginal artwork

Living in London had its perks, one of which was the weather: it was most conducive to decking out stylishly in warm layers, replete with fashionable hat, soft genuine leather gloves and ankle-high stiletto boots. The only thing I miss is wearing a mini skirt anytime anywhere.

Now back living in the tropics, I’m happiest in fitting tops with spaghetti strips. Comfort aside, I delight in the caressing contact of sun on skin or the gentle lashing of a cool breeze. Even the pitter patter of a lukewarm shower is welcome. So my shoulders are covered only when I’m off teaching English, in keeping with the image of the profession.

In contrast, I’m sworn off naked pasta, even though some may argue that you dress spaghetti aglio e olio with garlic and olive oil. But that’s like gritty sun screen on your birthday suit while sun-tanning not on a nudist beach, even when the smearing is wanton and extra virginal.

My pasta must be clothed regardless of the season. When it’s a hot dry spell, the truffle fettucini is saucily clad in milky smooth thickened cream, jazzed up with a lemony zing and thoroughly powered with finely grated cheese. When the monsoon hits, the macaroni gets fully swathed in a cheesy sauce so meltingly divine, the piping hot dish just has to be served straight from the oven.