Carpe Pasta

There’s an ancient Latin proverb that I keep handy in the back pocket of my brain to pull out for times like these. Extremis malis extrema remedia. "Desperate times call for desperate measures."

Let’s face it, the atmosphere in this post-election season, regardless of which side you’re on, has been fraught. I’m almost loathe to use the word “atmosphere.” Probably a trigger for climate change deniers and advocates alike. Where’s the closest safe space?

It’s tough to get a break from the vitriol on both sides, almost impossible to find an open discussion, hard to find a little peace. Under duress, more Latin escapes the dark recesses of my mind: Sine amiticia, vita esse nullam. "Life is nothing without friends." Or pasta. Or both, with wine. And chocolate. And cheese.

Panen et circenses. "Bread and Circuses." That’s what these times call for. Time to have a pasta-making party.

I seize the day. Carpe Diem. Instead of walking on eggs, I decide to break them. My new motto: Carpe Ova. "Break an egg."

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I invite my friends over to seize the eggs, break them into a well of soft, white, welcoming flour. We’ll add a little salt, a little water, and, what do you know? A couple of hours and glasses of wine later, we’ve created something new, we’re sharing a meal, a few laughs, and our points of view. Civilly, courteously, kindly.

Amivus certus in re incerta cernitur. "A true friend is discovered in times of uncertainty."

And obviously, over a shared dish of pasta.