Three hours and a cloud of flour later

Decided this morning I was going to make pasta. Not buy pasta - make pasta. From actual scratch, with just flour and eggs and whatever magic turns those two things into something edible.

Three YouTube videos, two recipe consultations with Sarah, and one emergency text to Abuela Rosa later, I finally understood why people just buy the boxed stuff.

Three hours and a cloud of flour later

This is me about two hours in, still convinced I could somehow roll the dough thin enough without a proper pasta machine. Spoiler alert: I could not.

But then something clicked around hour three. Maybe it was the rhythm of the rolling, or maybe I just wore down the dough’s resistance, but suddenly I had actual pasta strips hanging over chair backs like some kind of carb laundry line.

The moment of truth - did it actually work?

Jake kept wandering by to document my increasing flour coverage and decreasing sanity.

The final product? Lumpy in places, definitely thicker than anything you’d get at a restaurant, but it tasted like victory. And butter. Mostly butter, if I’m being honest. Already planning round two for next weekend, but this time I’m borrowing Carmen’s pasta machine.