Decimated Tomatoes & Penne

01/01/2025

Hi again. Happy New Year. I’ve made another meal for myself that I hope to master one day, so to try to iron out the kinks, I decided to craft another recipe for those at home looking for a mediocre meal. I bring you a fun and easy twist on cheesy butter noodles that has enough steps to make you feel like you actually did some tangible “cooking.”

Ingredients (This meal can be scaled to however much pasta you use, but typically I use half a box. Just eyeball everything)

Instructions

  1. Start boiling the water at this very fucking instant. This is a mistake I make constantly, I always think that I should time things out differently, preheat the oven, get something chopped, somehow I’ll do anything before I start to boil the water and it makes me look like a dumbass 30 minutes later when I am staring at this pot, starting to pray to gods that I don’t even believe in, to get this shit going. So don’t even read another word start boiling NOW.
  2. Okay now you can touch the oven LOL 350 degrees will do.
  3. Get a pan, aluminum foil, and a cutting board & small knife. Now, what the experts (me) do, is kind of absentmindedly shuffling all of these objects from counter to counter as to “maximize counter efficiently,” and once you’ve moved these things for the fourth time, out loud you’ll say “Jesus Christ” and just pick a task to do first. You’re gonna lay the foil in the baking pan, then start cutting your baby tomatoes into halves.
  4. I cut my hand at work last night before going out to dance. I shattered a glass above the dishwasher and grabbed it too fast to throw it away. It got me right in the webbing between my thumb and forefinger. It was interesting to wake up to it still bleeding, and reading of multiple explosions in the news. The ill omens that 2025 portend are going to probably be on your mind as you cut up 20ish baby tomatoes.
  5. Lay the tomatoes face up on your pan, then decorate with olive oil, rosemary, basil, salt & pepper. Make sure to cover every upright surface so that all that flavor gets cooked into the juice. Also, a long time ago my dad got me this garden vegetable grill seasoning? And it tastes good on like, everything. So use a heaping handful of that for sure. I don’t know where he keeps getting it, I can’t find it at my grocery store. So if you also can’t find it I’m sure my dad can buy some for you.
  6. Is that fucking water boiling yet? It better be fucking getting there.
  7. Put your tomatoes in the oven for 15-20 minutes. Check on them at the 15 minute mark, if they aren’t starting to blacken, give them a bit more time. Remember, they are called Decimated Tomatoes for a reason.
  8. They sizzle really nice when you check on them, though. Tonight I sat on the little stool in my kitchen, with my ear up to the oven door just to hear them sparkle. The oil bubbles and the rosemary does a little dance on top of the pools of tomato juice forming. Although decimated, these tomatoes are still QUITE juicy, so I’d advise wearing nothing grander than casual attire while dining, because I assume you will devour this meal like a wanderer that hasn’t eaten in days. To this point, I must bring up something really important to you all: I think I’ve been cursed by a witch. Or someone is buying etsy spells against me and they are working really well. Because every few months I am afflicted with some sort of daily misfortune that is never preventable, no matter how hard I try. And they’re simple unlucky misfortunes, too, it’s never something you could pin down to be driven by otherworldly forces. The worst one I received was that every single time I laid down to sleep, be it a cat nap or entering REM, when I would wake up, my cold butt would be sticking out of the covers. And sometimes I didn’t even start these sleeps with a blanket! But no matter the circumstance or temperature, this witch decided that my entire body could be warm and safe undercover, for the price of a freezing ass. An ass facing the world, but ashamed. I am not exaggerating, I promise. My latest curse is that since mid September, I have not been able to enjoy a single meal without spilling something or dropping something on myself. No matter how far I lean over the table, or how closely I monitor my plate. Makes me feel like a toddler. What did I do to this poor witch? Who have I wronged so badly? I am sorry, for whatever I have done, truly, just spare my white linens, I beg of you. I can’t handle stains.
  9. If the water isn’t boiling by now, abandon those useless gods and get your blowtorch. Also if you cook pasta al dente, that shit is gross. I need my pasta to be like a lover: tender. Cook per box instructions (or your heart), drain, put back into the pot.
  10. Mix in your butter and cheese to your taste. And then a few more scoops of cheese. And then a little more. That pot needs to be hard to clean later.
  11. I think I can actually handle stains. Proof of existence is something I enjoy thoroughly. But the word “stain” has such a negative connotation; Perhaps it can be understood as “proof of existence in a place where it needs to be forgotten.” Stains are memories, and I have many of both. Honestly, I hope this whole thing becomes a stain I can’t get out with a bleach pen when I move miles and miles away. The thought of something like this just becoming something intangible, something like wind, something I don’t even remember the touch of, feels just too sad. Ambivalence just becomes something forgotten, and I’d hate to be a stain that actually comes out in the wash.
  12. Carefully scrape your tomatoes off your pan, you don’t want to rupture their lovely shape. Then mix them in with your penne, and really smash them around the side of the pot because bitch of course we are rupturing their lovely shape, read the title again.
  13. Tonight I baked this batch like shit and I hated it, but I enjoyed it with a delicious glass of Sparkling Apple Cranberry Cider, in a cup that smelled kind of weird. So if you have that, it’ll be on theme. Serve with 3 episodes of season 2 of The X Files.

Another yummy banger in my tummy. Yes I know it was kind of shit this go around but I got #WhiteGirlWasted last night so I was not at my best today. I don’t really know why I thought I could pull it off. But, with a brand new, and kind of terrifying year ahead of us, there will be plenty of chances to pull this off correctly, and probably get a little on my shirt along the way.

Post Script: Ok the leftovers were even better I actually did a good job. Big Moves for the Stanley Community.