Peppers, Panic, and Invisible Sauce

I did it. I made the asparagus pasta dish with orange pepper and sun-dried tomatoes. But not without incident. I had all the ingredients, minus the fresh oregano - really, who has fresh spices on hand - and even arranged them around me as if I was on a cooking show. I had little dishes of chopped pepper ready to go, a neat pile of cubed cream cheese, and even an audience consisting of a captivated 4 year-old and an interfering 2 year-old. I felt good. The skillet was heated. The ingredients were ready. Well, almost. When giving quantities or measurements in a recipe, certain descriptions are hardly helpful. 450 grams of fresh asparagus, for example. How about telling me an approximate number of stalks? That would seem to make more sense. However, using the beautiful picture to make an educated inference, I think I came close. About that picture...

I understand that magazines have special people to make the food in pictures look good. But really, when the real thing deviates so drastically from that unattainable image, it's very discouraging. Especially to the cook who is using the picture as a measure of success for every step in the recipe. Does this look right? Are my peppers the right size? Needless to say, my final product did not exactly resemble the model on the page. Which made me feel bad. Like I'd already failed before even tasting the dish.

One last complaint about the actual recipe: when the instructions say "stir until sauce is slightly thickened" it would be helpful if said recipe actually produced some kind of sauce. Then the already frazzled cook would not have to mutter things like, "What sauce? I don't have any sauce! How come I have no sauce? Did I miss something?" Panic is so not-helpful in the kitchen.

I did manage, however, to complete the recipe (invisible sauce and all) in time to serve my family their incredible dinner. I liked it. A lot. Hannah did not. She proceeded to spit out every bite of pepper or tomato that snuck into her mouth. To be truthful, she didn't just spit them out. She gagged. She made faces. She commented that this was "asgusting". To my relief, she did like the noodles. So all was not lost.