Page 41 of Forever Enough
“Let me drain that for you.”
Mackenzie stepped aside and looked surprised for a moment before she handed me the Christmas mitts. “Thank you. If you’ll just drain the pasta in the strainer I have in the sink.”
I did as asked and poured the pasta in the strainer. “Spaghetti is your specialty, huh?”
“Yes, but I add a secret touch to it. I promise you’ll be forever changed.”
Laughing, I poured the drained spaghetti back into the pot and put it on the stove. “Do you want oil or butter on the pasta?”
She stopped and stared at me like I’d just announced the world was ending. “Never put oil on the pasta. Not in the water, not on the pasta. No. Just…no. Well, olive oil if you’re literally making the pasta, but never in the water.”
I held up my hands in surrender. “My mistake.”
Pulling the rolls out of the oven, she quickly brushed what looked like melted butter and garlic over the tops.
“Okay, I make my own napoletana, so I hope you like it.”
“Napoletana?” I asked.
“Sauce! My grandmother was Italian and that is what she called it. I make up batches and freeze it.”
“Wow, I can’t wait to taste it.”
“The other secret is mozzarella cheese.”
I raised a brow. “Instead of the parmesan you sprinkle on from the can?”
Her mouth dropped open. “You poor thing. You’ve never experienced the proper way to eat spaghetti.”
I laughed. “I guess not.”
“Trust me, you’ll like it. Wait, you do like cheese, right? Oh my gosh, if you don’t like cheese, then this—”
“Kenzie, I love cheese. It’s all good.”
She let out a relieved breath. “Hand me your plate.”
She took the plate I offered and twirled some noodles in the middle. Then she sliced thin pieces of cheese off a ball of mozzarella and laid it over the pasta. Next, she ladled the sauce—or as she called it, gravy—and poured it over the noodles, and finally took another slice of mozzarella and placed it on top.
She handed it to me and smiled. “You can pepper and salt it to taste, but with the cheese, you might not need any salt.”
I set the plate down and shook some pepper onto the pasta, then reached for a few rolls and added them to the plate.
“Go ahead and take a seat. I have a bottle of wine already open, as well as some water. I wasn’t sure if you liked wine. I also have beer if you want that instead.”
“Wine sounds good to me,” I said, making my way to her table. The apartment wasn’t huge, but it was laid out perfectly, so the small table didn’t feel it crowded the space at all.
“Oh! I forgot I made us some small salads,” she said as she went to the fridge and pulled out two bowls. I walked over and took them from her.
“Italian dressing okay?” she asked, holding up a bottle of what looked like homemade dressing.
“Perfect.” I took it from her and made my way back to the table while she dished up her plate. When she sat, I poured us both a glass of wine, then sat down.
“My grandmother would probably smack me if she saw me putting cheese on the spaghetti like this, but it’s so good. Don’t ask me why I started making it this way, but I’ve been doing it since I was about sixteen.”
I rolled some noodles onto my fork and watched the melted cheese stretch and break apart. Kenzie waited as I took my first bite.
The flavor of the sauce hit the back of my tongue and I moaned in delight. Then the saltiness from the cheese mixed in, the earthy taste of herbs, and the slight bite of acidic tomato, and I was blown away by how good it was. My eyes widened when I looked at her.