“Can’t live without” Pasta Thursday

What am I doing right now?
Taking note of the time. It’s 5.51 pm
Why?
There are approximately 7 (is that right?) hours left for Thursday to end and scatter-brain McGee just realized that she forgot her silly “Can’t Live Without” post.
Scatter-brain?
That would be me.

I should give myself a reward for even remembering. I’d like to say I was sailing on Lake Union past Tom Hanks’ house in Sleepless in Seattle (swoon) but I was doing something even more glamorous. I was making running food to feed my quarter-life crisis. I’ll explain later.

As badly as I want to take a nap right now, this can’t-live-without dinner is too perfect not to share. I make it with my eyes closed. I practiced so many other cooler lines to describe its sex appeal (say whaa) but as usual, I forgot to write them down.

Since I’m in the last-minute spirit, let me try remembering:
This pasta sauce is the next Pope.
No.
This pasta sauce can have my hand in marriage.
Weaaaak.
I love this pasta sauce so much, I set it free. In my mouth.
Stop me right now.

I failed, I know. But I also win. After, this Thursday, your socks will never be the same. Because they will have been rocked to the ends of the earth.

Welcome.

Spaghetti in grape tomato sauce

Ingredients

• Spaghetti (or any other pasta) serving for 2 cooked according to the instructions
• 1 whole box grape (or cherry) tomatoes. Mine was a pint (16 oz).
• 4 cloves garlic
• 2 tbsp olive oil (add more if you like your sauce to be oilier)
• 1/2 tsp coarse salt
• Some freshly cracked pepper
• Dried basil (this is optional)
• Parmesan cheese, freshly grated (not optional)

The first time I made this, I messed it up badly. Despite it all, I knew I had something special in the mess I made. Since it’s so easy to put together, I didn’t tear my hair out about trying it again. So I did. Over and over and over again.

Heat the oven to 350 degrees F.  Line a shallow baking tray or dish with aluminium foil and place all the tomatoes you own in it. Smash the garlic cloves with the back of a knife, peel and cut them in half. Don’t worry about cutting it more than this because it’s just going to get blended into a sauce. Place the smashed cloves around the tomatoes. Sprinkle the salt, pepper and olive oil over and marvel at your handiwork.

That’s what I always do.

Make a little cocoon with the foil without covering the tomatoes completely. Do you understand what I’m trying to say? Sometimes I’m confusing. Pop it in the oven for 40 minutes.

If you’ve played all your cards right, and you’ve haven’t passed out from the joyous aromas coming from your kitchen, this is how the tomatoes should look.

I’m so excited that my favourite part is coming up. And calm. But soooooo excited.

Put all of this oven roasted happiness (including the juices that have oozed out) into a blender and press go.

(Favourite part) Look down.

Once it’s all blended into a smooth sauce, pour it over the spaghetti. Allllllllllll of it. Grate parmesan cheese over it and pounce.

Juicy little things doing wonderful deeds for the benefit of mankind, I bow to thee.

You love the drama, admit it.