the world’s most legendary fettuccine
A night on cannon beach, where we cooked not fettuccine, but shells on a campfire. a pretty good theme for the sea, huh?
you wonder why someone would write a story about a package of fettuccine? well, this story is bizarre, and honestly, i never thought i’d write a story about some pasta. but this pasta somehow changed something within us. no other food has ever taught us so much, raised so many questions, and brought us closer together as this pasta did when frank and i traveled through the west coast of the usa in our 4runner.
cooking pasta seems to be one of the simplest things in the world. pasta, pot, salt, and boiling water - what could possibly go wrong? well, frank and i thought the same way when we bought 500 grams of delicious fettuccine inside a walmart near seattle. little did we know that a pack of fettuccine would teach us so much. it was our second day on the west coast, and after almost an hour of exploring the massive grocery store, the fettuccine was one of the most satisfying food items we could afford with our small travel budget. we were ready to embark on an adventure.
our camping, klipchuk campground. our stage of pasta-cooking-inability by the time frank took the pic: denial
the fact that we didn't have a gas stove to cook the pasta didn't bother us at all. after all, one can also cook with fire. so, we set off to the north cascades national park, found a cozy campsite, and as we sat there with our stomachs growling, we realized that there was a general fire ban due to terrible drought. now, how do you cook pasta when you're not allowed to make a fire and don't have a gas stove with you? you fold the pasta in half, place it in cold water, and wait several hours for it to soften (and if an italian happens to be reading this, i hope i never cross paths with them!). folks, don't try this, you'll starve before the pasta becomes edible.
creative evelyne at our campground
well, when you can't help yourself, you rely on the help of others. "can i help you guys?" a man in his mid-50s must have witnessed our incompetence. frank, who was busy tracking the trail of a baby squirrel, looked relieved and quickly told the man about our pasta plan before i could even squeeze a word out of my embarrassed state. in moments like these, i truly admire frank. how he approaches people, owns up to mishaps, and always finds a solution. we quickly befriended the ambitious motorcyclist named skyler, and minutes later, we were cooking our “soaked” pasta on his gas stove. we sat there for a long time, talking about all the things that were often neglected in our everyday work lives. we talked about the miracle of being in that place at that time, the most beautiful spots in the north cascades, our homes, our families, and how pasta can bring people together.
raw image of the freshly gas-cooked walmart fettuccine, with the help from a kind stranger!
skyler was visibly amused by our attempts to cook pasta without hot water. he shared many stories of his experiences in the area with his father, and the more he spoke, the more frank and i realized that skyler needed someone tonight to help him say goodbye to his beloved person, his father. we couldn't imagine anything more beautiful than being there for him, just as he had been there for us moments before. this pasta, and i'm not exaggerating, was by far the best i had ever eaten at that point. it tells a story that will stay in my heart forever. but i promise... it's about to get even better!
looking for the haystack rock puffins
the rock. where the tufted puffin resides
frank on the other side
frank, operating the grill of our hotel for the second round of fettuccine!
half of our fettuccine package was still left, and we still couldn't find a way to get a gas stove since none of the shops along our route sold the piece we were looking for. we had a lighter with us by now, but there was still a fire ban in effect, and we wanted to keep to it. in a hotel at cannon beach, which we visited well past midnight, we found our second opportunity to cook our beloved fettuccine. the hotel had a grill that guests were allowed to use. even though we almost melted the handle of our pan, we managed to bring the water to a boil within a short time, and minutes later, a delicious fettuccine al'arrabiata was sizzling on the grill. we were both proud of our cooking skills and decided to enjoy the pasta on the beach as it should be.
ready for lunch on the beach? evelyne, pouring tomato sauce over the fettuccine
while frank went back to the car to fetch a spoon and a fork, i made my way to the beach with the fettuccine. it was beautifully arranged in a wide frying pan, and just as i was crossing a street, it occurred to me that the camping pan didn't seem quite sturdy enough for all that food. and then it happened—the weight of the pasta caused the pan to give way. splash! the entire pasta scattered across the asphalt road. i still held the empty pan in my hand, now hanging at a vertical angle.
in that moment, i didn't know what to feel. disappointment that all our efforts were in vain? despair over what to do with all the food on the ground? anger at myself for not carrying the pan carefully enough? there was only one thing that became clear to me - i didn't want the pasta to stay on the ground. i started moving the individual fettuccine strips from the floor back into the pan. people around felt sorry for me and said i don’t have to clean it up, that i should notify the hotel that there had been an accident. but i didn't feel like it. i knew the story that the fettuccine already carried, how much i was looking forward to it, and how little i wanted to disappoint frank. a truck driver behind me made himself known. he needed to pass through here. reluctantly, i moved aside, watching as the pasta crawled under the truck, hoping that the exhaust was sealed. once again, i knelt down to the run-over pasta and put the rest back into the pan, even though at least half of it was marinated in stones and sand. then, with trembling arms and legs, i set out to find frank. by now, a whole audience had gathered to witness my mishap. i pushed my way through the crowd, trying to ignore their meaningful glances completely. when i saw frank approaching, tears filled my eyes. i was overwhelmed by everything.
in relationships, there are moments that make you realize you've found someone in your life whom you never want to lose. for me, that was one of those moments when frank embraced me in his arms and whispered in my ear that everything would be okay. i didn't have to tell him about my mishap; my state of mind and the obvious state of the pasta revealed everything to him. with an encouraging voice, he promised to create the most legendary fettuccine in the world from that pasta. i simply love this person so much.
so we walked back to the hotel together, at an american water station, Frank started carefully and lovingly washing each individual Fettuccine with clean water until the stone marinade was washed away from every last piece. The only thing we lost in the process was the sauce and a fair amount of stone marinade. I fired up the grill again, and we heated up the rescued pasta, seasoned it with salt and delicious vegetables. Once again, we made our way to the beach, this time with a sturdier pan. And this is the story of how an ordinary dry pack of Fettuccine turned into the most legendary one we had ever eaten in our lives. This pasta made us realize how special food can be, how a pack of pasta can bring people together, and how much it means to have access to warm resources like fire or gas. Fettuccine remains my favorite pasta to this day.
with 🐝 and 🐿️ and 🐘 by evelyne.
