You go to a restaurant, right? You order, let’s say, the pasta. One day, it’s a mountain. A glorious Everest of spaghetti, enough to feed a small village. You’re thinking, ‘I’m never finishing this!’ The next time, same restaurant, same dish, it’s a little pebble! A few sad strands, barely enough for a bird. What happened? Did they run out of pasta? Did the chef have a fight with his spouse? Is it a cosmic joke? You never know what you’re gonna get! It’s culinary roulette! I just want consistency! I don’t want to play a guessing game with my linguine. Is it a snack? Is it a feast? Is it a light dusting of parmesan cheese that they call ‘dinner’?
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