Careless Cook IX

Last night’s meal was creamy turmeric pasta, again from a New York Times recipe. Turmeric has been receiving a great deal of good press recently. Curcumin, the active ingredient in turmeric is said to lessen inflammation and pain, improve memory, fight free radicals, lower the risk of heart disease, help fight depression, and even help prevent cancer. I would say that is quite an impressive record, and one to which I am attracted. For almost fifty years I have ingested mega-doses of supplements purchased from health food store wherever I have lived: multiple vitamins; vitamins C, D, and E; Saw Palmetto; folic acid; calcium, and omega 3. Over the years there have been others with which I have experimented as I sought perfect health that would lead to longevity and even immortality. Alas, I got sick anyway, and none of the supplements have prevented the advent of age-related difficulties. I still consume some supplements, but even with all of the press given to turmeric I have no interest in adding it to my regimen of supplements. I think I am at an age that nothing will relieve the process of getting old. No amount of moisturizers will transform my parchment-like skin into a silky and smoothly youthful cover. I add another nap to my daily regimen. Despite all my care, I wend my way toward extinction. As Hamlet said, “If it be now, ‘tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the readiness is all.” Chiron, the immortal son of Cronus, received an arrow in his heel and suffering unrelievable pain asked Zeus to let him die. And Zeus granted his wish and transmuted his dear friend into the heavens as a constellation, Centaurus. Nothing will prevent my aging and its accompanying difficulties. Nothing I take will give me immortality. The readiness is all.

And so none of the health benefits of curcumin—the active element in turmeric—were involved in my decision to prepare creamy turmeric pasta for dinner: rather, I was drawn to the simplicity of preparation: there would be little opportunity to suffer serious mistakes. The dish contained only a few ingredients all of which I already had in my pantry and all ones that I favored: pasta, butter, onion, turmeric, parmesan cheese and cream! And, of course, a bit of salt. The color of the sauce was a bright and deep orangey-yellow that contrasted wonderfully with the dark gray skies that brought in rain and thunder. We ate in comfort with not a little noise from out there. And a little white wine went well with our dinner. There was left over nothing.

Pasta is such comfort as a meal. Of course, pasta is yet another bread product and I already eat too much bread. I am down to only two loaves in my freezer, and I begin to feel a rise of anxiety that I will soon be without; they say bread is the staff of life. I’ll make Vermont Honey Wheat Oatmeal Bread. Pasta is so friendly—it accepts whatever sauce one places atop it and whatever side dish is prepared to accompany it. For years when Maddy would share our dinner I served up spaghetti with marinara to which I always added peas! I suspect both she and her dear friend, my daughter, always expect peas alongside or even within their spaghetti plates. And at chez moi that is what they are always and forever served. I have at other times and for other guests added a variety of vegetables to accompany my pasta dishes: broccoli, asparagus, mushroom, even butternut squash (spicy butternut squash pasta with spinach) or brussel sprouts (crisp gnocchi with brussel sprouts and brown butter)! And I have covered the pasta with a variety of sauces, mostly plain, simple marinara or homemade pesto, or just butter and cheese, but on occasion I prepare a sauce somewhat (for me) exotic: linguini with melted onion and cream, for example. I try to follow the recipes provided but . . . well, I am careless and sometimes misread the recipe or just do not have the required ingredients. But the pasta is always forgiving and we eat well enough.