To be cheesed off about the pasta bake incident five years on

[Dangelis]

This is as light hearted as it gets, I'm not actually fuming about this! I am interested in some perspectives though.

In 2017, five friends from East Anglia and I got an Airbnb in London so we could all go to a late night event nearby. I was the first to arrive (I live in London but was bunking in with them anyway) so I went to a supermarket and got a few bags of crisps, soft drinks and some small charcuterie type stuff - enough for everyone, but mainly because I like having this kind of stuff around while I'm getting ready to go out, so I paid for it myself. I figured the others could order delivery if they wanted anything bigger.

On my friends' group chat, I'd noticed a few references to a "pasta bake" and some requests for money over the past two weeks, but I'd skimmed over these.

When my friends turned up, one of the couples (who I barely knew) arrived with THE pasta bake. I was surprised as I thought it had been a joke - and practically speaking, it sort of was. There were two huge ceramic oven dishes full of the coldest, most wet and cheese-less penne bake I'd even seen, and they'd been sitting in the back of someone's car covered in foil for over three hours, all the way from Kings Lynn to Southwark. They were carried in with GREAT fanfare by the woman of the couple, who proceeded to re-heat this huge beige thing in the oven, and then ladle big, sad, stodgy bowls of it out to everyone (not what anyone wants to try to hold and shovel down while trying to put on makeup and get into a cocktail dress!!!). She talked about the cooking process and recipe too, as if we couldn't work it out. The way this woman went about it, you'd think she thought she'd rescued the whole night from disaster and starvation. I think I attempted to navigate my way around an undercooked piece of broccoli and watery pasta for a bit before hiding it in my room. It was honestly so bizarre to watch this performance happening while the rest of us were enjoying the vibe of getting ready to go to a quite expensive and elegant night out.

So far so bland. But the next morning, the woman went around telling everyone how much the ingredients (penne pasta, broccoli, not enough tomato sauce, and cheese In Name Only) had cost and calculating how much each person in the house owed them for the privilege of being involved in THE pasta bake. I honestly can't remember if I paid up or not - I think one of my mates who was closer to them paid for a few of us out of embarrassment.

This couple are divorced now, and I haven't seen the woman since the event. I've never brought it up with my friends, but I find myself thinking about this all the time. Was I being snotty about what was, in theory, a nice but misguided gesture? Am I overestimating how much small-towners know about food availability in Central London after dark? Or was this genuinely weird and off base?

Both stories present you in a rather shitty light truth be told

I've never heard the word "parsimonious" before but I have a friend exactly like yours. Over the years she's let on she has about 300k in savings.
Dont think she's ever bought a round of drinks..

Op, can you message your friend and say you have just realised you never paid for your share of the pasta and ask how much you owe. I think a lot if us won't sleep without knowing.
When I was a student a group of us was invited to another group of friends house for a roast. At the end a pen and paper appeared to work out how much everyone owed. I was the only veggie so my share was less than £1 but they didn't round it up, it was to the penny. Luckily it was long enough ago that everyone carried money. Would have to do bank transfer these days.

If you hadn’t skimmed over the WhatsApp messages about the pasta bake and contributing to the cost then it wouldn’t have come as a surprise! It doesn’t sound at all appetising but I think it was a nice idea if you’d have otherwise been having to either go out on an empty stomach or find somewhere to eat that may have been expensive. Perhaps the maker of the pasta bake wasn’t able to afford London prices for eating out, on top of the accommodation.

I think you have allowed this thing to occupy far to much space in your brain to be honest. If it had been a really nice pasta bake, I'm sure you would have tucked in, paid up and never given it a second thought.

It is always awkward when someone thinks they are a great cook but they aren't and no-one has the heart to tell them. I tend to find that empty pots (or talentless chefs in this case) tend to make the most noise.

Do they? As I said still in good contact with all parities. Sometimes seething over something over the years is better than exploding at the time.
@Hungrycaterpillarsmummy child was 20! Preferences not restrictions Hence the mollycoddled comment and my 🙄 at her mum telling me what to cook for her.

I find people like that so annoying.

Yes it was a "nice gesture"... But making such a song and dance over it AND asking for money takes away any of the niceness.

I hate eating a stranger's home cooking too... You never know if they are double dippers with the tasting spoon etc

Picky bits before a night out is kind of standard and a McDonald's after 😍

Oooh...

There's the Empanada Incident

Driving home from Far Away Northern City - carrying a precious container of the most delicious vegan empanadas I have ever had (even my sister declared them amazing and she's usually pretty derogatory about veggie and vegan things), left overs from our takeaway at a friends house.

We're on our way to a rural Midlands Shire... an epic trek, and it is 2am, as a result of wittering late into the night and a distinct inability on sisters part to stop faffing and get in the frigging car.

At some point down the M5, I decided to eat one of the empanadas. It's an unlit section of road, there is a dippy sauce, these are generously filled and fairly large too - I get everything balanced nicely .... or so I thought.

Just as I finish up and reach to pack away the remaining food and dip, sister brakes sharply to avoid smashing into the rear of some nob who can't look before changing lanes (or some such event, it obviously wouldn't be her fault as shes The Most Amazing Drive Ever (tm. her claim, not mine).

There is an avalanche, slow but impossible for me to stop, and the tray and remaining food-gasmic empanadas sliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiide from my (not particularly spacious or useful) lap and towards the manky disgusting horror-show that is the footwell of my car.....

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

I can feel the tray on my foot. I fumble for my phone, sister urging me 'check, see if it's really on the floor! Hurry!'....

Lighting up the footwell with my phone I can see the remaining empanadas, still sat on their thin plastic shroud, on the inside of my foot (I sit with my ankles flopped over... weird I know). No part of empanada is touching floor or shoe!

There is of course, dip all over the bloody floor... because no one is THAT lucky.

Unfortunately as I have similar proportions to an inflateable t-rex (round, very short arms) there is absolutely fuck all chance I am reaching down to save the empanadas.

We (briefly!) consider the hard shoulder but after some debate decide this does not in fact constitute a real emergency and delicious as the empanadas are... they don't warrant getting smashed flat by a dozing HGV driver.

So sister caaaaaaaaaaarefully drives us to the next motorway services - torn between going fast to get there quicker, or going slow to avoid the empanada falling to its DOOM...

My leg is cramping, I now need a wee, the empanada is slipping.... will we make it?

We arrive and just in time I remind her NOT to swing into a parking space with the usual flourish and stamp on the brakes that is her typical style...

She gets out, comes round to my side and lo.. the empanada is still sat on my foot, still safe, still not in contact with any... filth...

So we ate it. The end.

Also there was the time, the morning after a house party at a friends, where I asked those sat at the table if anyone wanted a bacon and mushroom butty as I was making one. All said no, no thankyou, all full up. Including New Girlfriend of an old friend.

I made. I had urgent need for the loo so set my sandwich aside and dashed off....

NEW GIRLFRIEND ATE IT. I returned to find her stuffing the last crumbs into her mouth. Bitch.

Old friend dumped her shortly after, citing this as one of the final straws.

we were all silently grateful to catch the bus back to the city, waiting at the bus stop right outside the high security prison in our Edwardian picnic clothes we felt every inch the prats we were!

@FlosCampi that's causing flashbacks to the time we spent a weekend with a couple who'd moved to Buxton, Derbyshire. He was ex-Army. They seemed nice.

It was late April When we arrived on Friday things were a bit tetchy over dinner and we lay awake listening to them rowing. On Saturday she took me on a trip round antique shops while her incredibly competitive husband thrashed my husband at squash.

Saturday's dinner was thankfully not pasta bake with broccoli but I don't want to give the impression it was good.

At 7am on Sunday morning we wanted to go home but agreed to their planned excursion of a lovely walk in the Peak District followed by a pub lunch. I was thinking of a stroll to look at the daffodils and lambs followed by a steak and kidney pie. The weather can be a bit nippy in the Peak District in April, can't it? And so it proved to be. It started sleeting and visibility was quite poor but I focussed on his hard arse in front of me and began to realise how incidents of friendly fire happen in battlefield situations if you have a gun. I didn't.

The worst point was when he asked if I'd like a drink of tomato soup from his Thermos. Would I? I thought, and he made me scramble up a muddy bank to get it.

We got lost and by the time we found our way back to the car park (that was thanks to my husband's map reading skills not ex-Army macho man) it was about 3pm and I said I wasn't hungry any more. Looking back, I think I was suffering from exposure.

About 6.30pm in the gathering gloom of their house we said we had to be getting back. She said we should stay and set off in the morning but we both silently thought with the telepathy of closeness: "you're ,married to a cunt. We're sorry for you but you are going to have to sort this out for yourself. We don't want our families to weep at the inquest about how we were the collateral damage of your dysfunctional relationship with a cunt."

On the drive home my husband said: "Are you glad to get out of there?" And I said "Yes. If it ever happens again, let's talk about it earlier."

@limitedperiodonly I didn’t think they tipped at all in Italy? Not back then? But what a fun memory. It’s always the little things!

Empanada story was zzzz - your dropped it, it landed on your shoe. It was fine, you ate it.
Also I don't see why you can have just bent over. You don't just stay sitting up straight in the car waving your tiny t rex arms out to try and reach it. Just bend over.. :s

Bacon and mushroom eating girlfriend bitch is much better.

Yes they do.

first one - you ignored your friend and added your own ingredients to something that your friend specifically asked you to do for her child. If you hadn’t intend to do so, you should have been honest with her.

the second one - all you’re doing is bitching about a family members cooking 🤷‍♀️

Loads of projection but ok 😃

@Lamelie oh right the way it sounded was the girl was 7 or something!

😂

Came to say that you are sounding like an outrageous crashing bore & a raging
snob in thinking that "small towners" don't know how to cater for what is obviously just a pre-event get together drink and nibbles party that is still bothering you years later.
Next time you stop at home to get ready with your evidently cosmopolitan life style with appropriate nibbles and let them get on with it OR "be nice" and offer to set things up "properly" London style as a welcome for the gauche country folk!

Huh? How so. Surely that exactly what you say in your post! 😂

WiddlinDiddlin, you get a special prize for heroism in the cause of saving a really good empanada. We’ve got an impressive line-up of culinary exoticism to choose from in this thread, so take your pick.
Kennomeat pie?

So if you didn’t want to follow a recipe for a 20 year old… you say so! Why passively aggressively add ingredients?

The Lentil Soup Incident Of 1995

My mother died in 1995 and as we all lived in London and her seven sisters all lived in a tiny village in Scotland, we had two funerals - the London one, then the Scottish village one.

I will skip past my oldest sister's insistence that we should attempt to get a different urn for the ashes while we were in Inverness. Suffice it to say that we failed to find one. Suffice it also to say that as I had a three-week-old baby at the time, I was exhausted anyway.

However. As we had another hundred miles to go, we set off in a hired car. I am the only one of my four sisters who can drive, so I had to do it all.

I will skip past my youngest sister's outrage when we had to stop for me to breastfeed the baby - twice. I am not sure what she expected me to do, but anyway.

We arrived at our destination and my youngest sister made sure that all our aunties were told that she was a vegetarian. I confess that the aunties were a bit flummoxed by this, being very much of the "meat, cabbage and potato" school of dining. I do not mind what I eat as long as it isn't pasta fucking bake.

Fast forward to the Wake. My sister had left strict instructions about the lentil soup. It was not to contain meat, or meat stock cubes. So far, so good. Someone agreed to make it. They also said they'd make Scotch Broth (which does contain meat).

Well, we were jolly hungry by the time we arrived at one of the auntie's houses for the Wake.

To my sister's dismay, someone ladled out some of the Scotch Broth into a bowl, then put the ladle into the lentil soup. According to my sister, this contaminated the lentil soup with meat, so she refused to eat it.

Cue all the aunties talking in corners about entitled nieces, and my sister going off to sulk, outraged, in the garden.

Oh well. At least she wasn't asked to pay anything towards the lentil soup.

And no one stopped her? No one said “hey!!”

and who turns down a bacon and mushroom butty the morning after a party?! 😂

Well, it was funny at the time.

You'd need to see me to see why I can't bend over but believe me when I say, I cannot (I mean why the fuck would I lie!)

Isn't minestrone soup just good old veg soup with pasta in it , strange thing to get upset about....save your rage for something that matters ....

Yes, completely your fault that someone else called it cat food. You should control yours guests better. And your teeth.

🤣

OP, can you message your friend and say you have just realised you never paid for your share of the pasta and ask how much you owe. I think a lot if us won't sleep without knowing

I absolutely second this comment, OP. Do it. Go on - you know you want to.