I am perpetually seeking to enter a flow state, and very often succeed. The downside of this ‘talent’ never ceases to amaze me. While “flowing”, I often do things that are remarkably stupid.
Case in point:
What is it, you wonder?
This is the plastic insert to the lid of my blender …. which I searched for furiously *before* deciding to simply cover the hole in the lid with the Pyrex cup which was on the counter. As the cooked cherry tomatoes were “liquifying”, I wondered what could be making that clicking sound. It was the smell of the plastic that clued me in to what was going on. WTF was I thinking?
The beauty, of course, was that I was *not* thinking, and that was exactly what I was looking to do a bit earlier as I was kneading the dough and shaping another practice batch of orecchiette.
My dough was beautiful. Joey gifted me the extra fancy durum flour yesterday (mua!), and I remembered the semolina, salt AND warm water. Few things feel as good as fresh pasta dough.
Here was my countertop workspace. I want to buy one of those super large wooden pastry boards sometime soon.
The little ears line the table, as she tells herself that the imperfections are what make them artisanal.
But her efforts are in vain. She notes the small holes in some, the thicker dough in others, and the ones she simply 'folded' over when there was nothing resembling an 'ear' under the knife. Some of them have a small lip, though, and, seen collectively, they are truly beautiful.
This is the cherry tomato sauce that she "would" have added basil to and eaten with the orecchiette. However, it was riddled with small pieces of plastic. Pazienza!
Instead, she ate a few with pesto. Who the heck cares if the shapes are perfect? They tasted just fine (she writes, knowing full well her obsession will continue until she manages to both regularize the thickness of the dough in each one, thereby avoiding the small tears, and get the salt level just right).