"Is that Russian food?," I asked before I could stop myself. Aleksander barked out a laugh and looked up from the pot of boiling water to glance at me over his shoulder. "No it's not"
"It's a rather simple dish, actually. It just sounds fancy." I listened to him as l sat on the one of the stools at the kitchen island to watch him as he cooked.
"Garlic, olive oil, parsley and Parmigiano_ reggiano tossed with angel hair pasta.... It's Italian and so simple to cook", He spoke.
"Simple or not, it smells wonderful." With his back turned, I frowned as my thoughts went to my last conversation about pasta. Papa would be happy to know I was eating something that sounded so classically Italian. "I didn't know you could cook at all, so, consider me impressed."
Aleksander pulled two glass bowls f
