Burro

Dude. Bubba and I are home alone tonight, and I just played the video for him. OK, well, not FOR him, but just to see him again. He BARKED! A LOT!

And earlier when I had my friend Suze over for dinner after a matinee, he nicked the half loaf of bread we'd left on the table when we went outside to enjoy the fresh air for a bit. BUBBA! You're not supposed to do that. You don't eat steak scraps from the trash, after all. I suspect you're as carbo-loving as I am. The only time you seem to beg is when I've got crackers or an english muffin in hand.

Speaking of carbs, my oh MY. You have to make this for your loved ones. Don't let tell them the ingredients. For that matter, you might want to blindfold yourself AND cover your ears and sing LA LA LA while you make it. I'm not that dexterous, so I just resigned myself that it had better taste DAMN good. Instead of canned tomatoes, I used sauce that I had made yesterday, boiling down fresh tomatoes until they were literally half the volume they were to begin. There was an unfortunate forgot-to-stir incident during the sauce making. Just for the record, burning tomatoes onto the bottom of a pan will not ruin your sauce so long as you don't try to scrape the crap while the sauce is still in there. Just dump the sauce into another pan and cry that you've perhaps ruined your stockpot. The sauce will even be better for the burning, though, because it will taste as though you've roasted and caramelized the tomatoes somewhere along the way. Crazy.

I've never ever made a pasta dish that was so simple and so delicious. Actually, I may have never eaten a pasta dish that was that good, period. I tossed a handful of fresh basil in at the end, which made it even better. Suze and I both had two gigantic helpings, and I'm barely restraining myself from going into the fridge for a snack.

Do it. Seriously.

p.s. Suze never comments, but she does lurk. Just for that, here's a bit of dirt on her--she cried during the matinée of Mamma Mia we watched today. Somehow I did not, though I got a bit misty. Really, though, I think I may have just been lusting after Pierce Brosnan. Twentyish years older seems less of an issue than it did in the Remington Steele days. It left me so overcome that I spilled an entire HUGE Diet Coke on a young girl as we walked back to the car. Then I knocked my glass of wine onto the tablecloth. Thank god the wine was white, because so was antique linen table covering. More about Suze: she loves Bubba, too, and commented that he was rather catlike, for a dog. This as he lolled on her lap, paws up.

Excellent. Twenty minutes to write this means I still haven't gone back to the fridge for that leftover pasta. I might have to make that sauce for the next 12 meals in a row. I'll put the cardiologist on speed dial, don't worry.