First recipe: Manicotti

Manicotti, or MAN-EHHH-GOT! as my Italian American friend Frank would say, didn't seem like it would be a hard meal to make. I checked the box for the recipe and I figured "What the hell, I'll probably do a better job than I think".

So away with the box, and the recipe along with it. IT'S GO TIME.

So things start out simple enough: Make the sauce, boil the noodles, preheat the oven; you know, the damn basics. I zoom through it because, well...it's pasta. If you can't make pasta then I'm sure nobody's ever loved you. My sauce, by the way-

-is the greatest sauce ever. It comes from the finest jar of pasta sauce you'll ever find at a supermarket. I remember making my own sauce once: quite delicious, but it took so long I fell asleep while eating. Don't ever do that; you'll get it all over your clothes. Or eat naked, whatever's easier.

SO! everything seems to be coming together nicely when I realize...I have no idea how to put filling into the manicotti noodles.

Shit just got real.

I made an attempt to go to the trash can to retrieve the now soiled and germ covered pasta box with the recipe on the back, but I pull myself together. "No, Hans!" I shout to myself in my head.

I uh, I sometimes call myself Hans.

"Steel yourself, sir! You came into this believing in yourself-don't give up hope!"

Like a mental slap across the face, I tighten my apron, I gather my tools, and I say with my chest "I shall prevail!"

Mind you, I still don't know how to effin' fill these noodles. Also, I dropped some on the floor.

Yeah, some of that happened.

No matter: A few casualties in a war I know in MY HEART I'm going to win. After the noodles boil, I drain them in the colander and prepare to do battle with their soft, noodle-y forms. I had to bring in reinforcements, however:

This is Yosef. He's seen a few fights in his time, but never have I encountered a braver man than he.

This is his wife, Agnes. I originally thought it was a boy assistant, and that the old man, well...well he had some questions that needed to be answered. It was by chance that I found out this was a woman...and by god, she is ugly.

Anyhoo, I filled the manicotti as best as I could, braving scalding meat sauce, the dangerous noodle nemesis I created, and an oven that was waiting for its next doomed entrant. When all was said and done, I managed to make these:

These have got to be the ugliest manicotti ever made. And I've been to some shitty italian restaurants.

Also, Agnes fell. I like to think that she got drunk on some cooking wine and stumbled into the corner of the kitchen, with Yosef shaking his head and cursing the direction his life went down. Because they have problems, you see.

How the hell did these two noodles get into the corner like that? It looks like they tried to make a break for it, the smug italian vagabonds...

30 minutes later, the meal was done. I hoped that, at the very least, the manicotti would look somewhat presentable and hopefully delicious.

Meh, good enough. Maybe I HAVE seen shittier manicotti, because these...well, they're not any better, but they were damned delicious.

Oh, and these were the dishes I had to do afterward. I don't even get paid for this crap.