Nothing About Bluegrass Here….

Murphy Henry

And the only reason I’m writing about this non-bluegrass subject is that I can’t get Casey on her cell phone. Otherwise, I’d just be telling her this, and blogging about something bluegrass.

You see, I’m not much of a cook but Casey did give me this great (and simple) recipe for a pasta dish. Which I decided to make today. It’s just farfalle…ah, just thought of a banjo reference! Farfalle is bow-tie pasta! And, as we all know, bow-tie is the inlay on the 1950s Gibson RB-250’s.
Now that we’ve gotten the obligatory (and totally unexpected) banjo reference out of the way….

The recipe calls for bow-tie pasta, pesto, pine nuts, goat’s milk cheese, and a little olive oil. So, I’m getting ready to add the cheese to the pasta, which is in a great big bowl. I’ve got this pyramid-shaped package of Chavrie which “spreads like silk.” I pull off the square plastic covering from the bottom and see instructions that say, “It’s easy to remove Chavrie from its special container. Just turn it over and gently press on all four angles. You can also use the bottom lid as a convenient serving tray.”

So I start squeezing and nothing happens. No cheese comes out on a “convenient serving tray.” Well, I hate stuff like this. It makes me feel like an idiot. How am I supposed to get the cheese out? It cannot be that hard. I look again at the bottom and see something I missed. A silver tab sticking out. Obviously (now) I’m supposed to remove the foil backing from the cheese. Why didn’t they say that?

I remove the constricting foil and start squeezing again. Convinced the cheese is on its way out, I move the package toward the bowl, while still squeezing. Unfortunately the cheese elects to emerge in the one second the package is traveling, not over the counter, but over the floor. PLOP! And there goes the whole mess, right onto the linoleum. Kitchen linoleum. Where we walk. I swore a minor oath. (It being Sunday and all.)

Fortunately, the cheese did not spread like silk, but pretty much remained in a big blob. I scooped it up with a wide spatula, upended it, and after looking at the portion that had met the floor, realized the five-second rule would not apply.  I took a knife and scraped off the grit-speckled and hairy cheese and tossed the rest into the bowl.

It was smooth sailing from then on, and I have now a large portion of the pasta ready to take to Robyn’s house. Her daughter Hannah (Logan’s sister) left for college yesterday and Jose Cuervo and I are going over to commiserate. I figure the pasta will help too.

By the way, Casey did call me back before I finished the blog, but I thought, “Why waste a good blog?”