The trouble with pasta is, it’s bloating. I think it’s the starch and the carbohydrates and probably Guido’s over generous portion of sauce. If you’re an elite athlete who wants to run a marathon within twentyfour hours, fine. However, if you’re a regular person up for sex straight after eating then you may have a problem. If you’re anything like me then ravioli will make you wilt. Maybe my metabolism’s weird. But there’s a story that, in old Naples, prostitutes used to eat copious amounts of spaghetti before a ship full of hungry foreign sailors arrived in port. I’ve never slept with a sailor but if I’d been cooped up onboard for eight months with a bunch of hairy seamen, getting my fork into a penne arrabiata would be absolutely the last thing running through my head.
Guido is immune to this glutenous phenomenon. He could eat a macaroni cheese and then stand on his head without burping. He could have a full portion carbonara and still let all his bits happily hang out with no obvious trouble. Meanwhile there I am, after supper, like Fatty Arbuckle, woefully trying to suck every inch of me back in. I’m sorry to have to tell you the following. The two of us actually ate cannelloni in bed last week. Then right after we had sex. How unedifying is that? And I’m even more sorry to have to tell you that as I was laying there all I could think about was one thing. It wasn’t Guido. It was fast-acting Gaviscon.
If you too suffer from this unfortunate affliction then I am relieved to now tell you that help may be at hand. I’ve discovered there is one pasta dish Guido can cook which I can stomach, then happily remove my clothes for. It’s a terrific chilli linguine. It’s definitely a stimulant. Honestly, last night I took one mouthful and I was like Neanderthal Man with a thick club. I couldn’t wait to pull back the sheets and role-play The Dark Ages.
“You should seriously think about telling people about the effect of this stuff. At the very least please put a sign in the café window to tell everyone it exists,” I said with not one hint of indigestion. “Something subtle like – Come in! Now serving culinary Viagra!“
As I’ve already discovered to my cost on this blog, a chef is like a magician and his recipes are the secret to the magic trick. Reveal how they work and it’s generally considered treachery. Unless of course you happen to be Nigella Lawson and you’ve a new book to promote and a house in Chelsea to pay for.
“It’s a kind thought. But if you ever divulge my chilli linguine recipe to anyone I may have to kill you,” said Guido. I must say, it’s such a shame because I’m the sort of person who does like to spread breaking news to my blogger friends. Even if it does put my life at risk.
Boil a large pan of salted water and cook the linguine as instructed on the packet. Once al dente, drain and add a glug of garlic pressed olive oil, one crushed fresh clove of garlic and two teaspoons of dried chilli flakes. Stir well. Serve topped with shavings of Grana Pandano cheese. Then, have sex immediately.