*absolutly fabulous.

Ok, that's sort of a lie. But I swear this was get-caught-with-your-face-in-the-dish delicious the first time I made it. And I think, had I not been in a manic hurry, it would have been equally good this time. First, I chopped onion and garlic and threw it in with some melted butter. Frankly, cookies are a waste. Pop that on the stovetop and you can sell your house faster than Sandra Lee can say "super" (that'd be 19 seconds in, if you're counting, but I had to use that clip because the woman is certifiably insane. And I am so up for this. E-mail me at onthewoodside@gmail.com if you want to bring the booze.)

Aaaaaaanyhoodle, this is how a person gets sidetracked. Where were we? Oh, right, things were smelling good. While the pasta boiled, in went tomato sauce, flour, and water to thicken.



Next up: the good stuff. Half/half, milk, vodka, salt, red pepper, and parmesan.



Then, realize you've been toiling dutifully on the sauce and have entirely forgotten to cook the pasta.

Pour yourself some vodka.

When the pasta is cooked, it mixes with the sauce and, if you remember it, fresh basil. Blushing in the background is a store-bought focaccia topped with cheddar and jalapeños, which I'm pretty sure would make the Italians jeer and which also proves the rather schizophrenic nature of this dinner. Not that I'm deriding, mind you. Delusional and hallucinatory is my favorite kind of dinner. My ideal menu would involve quesadillas, Rice Krispies treats, and tater tots.

Delusional, hallucinatory, and monochromatic.



Combine vodka plus pasta plus doughy bread ... plus bleary late-night Scrabble, the best card game ever, three ladies, a maltese, a poodle, a chihuahua, and a boxer, and you have the recipe for a good time.

Eh, J?