Of course I was going to write this post.
I had even put up an Instagram post last week. Summarising the same thought.
But why leave it at a handful of words, when I can stretch it out to another lockdown diary. For if we know one thing about me – I like to use more words than is necessary.
The answer to the original tweet is always going to be be Penne.
Penne is just crap in its ubiquitousness.
When a child won’t eat something off the menu in an Italian restaurant, then the answer is usually Penne with cheese/butter/oil.
If a cafe wants to do a quick, microwaved pasta to serve to the hordes at lunchtime. The chances are, penne will be at the heart of it.
If you need to seal a leak under the sink and don’t have access to some spare piping. Penne will do.
Penne is always the answer to the wrong question. Even if it is the right pasta for the wrong sauce.
Sure there are others. Farfalle is not much better. The limp butterfly without a decent theory to support it. Chaos or otherwise.
Orecchiette and Trofie come with a ridiculously high risk factor. Easy to over cook. Which is a crime. No matter what the shape.
But Penne is where it is at. Top of the tree, or bottom of the pile – depending on which way you set out your chart.
The rigid piping in a world of joyous flexibility. And that is my final word on the matter.