It’s 7am in New York, which means it’s 12pm in London and before I fell asleep at 1am EST I’d been up for about 22 hours. My day was punctuated by more meals than usual: three scrambled eggs with wholemeal toast, a chicken and rice bowl at Wagamama washed down with a beer, two vodka sodas and a chicken tikka masala on the plane, half a roll with Trewithen dairy butter, some sourdough crackers and a lump of cheddar, pretzels, and a warm cheese wrap that I declined before landing. Having not been to New York since 2012, pre-Girls era, before I’d really lived my life, I arrived tired and a little confused by the subway system. On a street corner at 9pm by East New York station, quite clearly a tourist, a little sketched out (I’m ashamed to admit; I never feel like this in London), I ordered an Uber, which is something I rarely do on account of being determined to use public transport in all situations. But we move. A hug, doordashed dumplings guzzled down, no sitting down on soft surfaces – instead three mezcal cocktails at Hotel Delmano with Meg where the lights were dim, the ceiling painted a faded sky and the drinks salt-rimmed and potent. Anyway, here’s another Sad Pasta recipe I made last week featuring yet another left-of-field spicy ingredient.
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