Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

“Okay, Abby. Let’s get everything in place. Farro mafaldine, black truffle butter, and the mushrooms,” John

says, his hand passing over each individual ingredient—and lingering over the coveted black truffles—as

he speaks.

I nod. My body feels like it’s about to burst, I’m so excited. “I can’t believe we’re finally doing this,” I say. “If

we can just nail this dish, the cook-off is ours.”

Karl chuckles from the sidelines. “No pressure, huh?”

John and I share a quick glance and a collective breath before diving in.

He works on preparing the handmade pasta, expertly feeding the farro mafaldine through the machine. I

focus on the mushrooms, slicing them with surgical precision before turning to the star of our dish: the

black truffles.

Enter title…

I sh ve thin layers of the truffles, letting them fall into the small pot of melted butter on the

the room and making my stomach growl

feels like an eternity, the dish is finally complete. John and I step back, looking at the

mafaldine, black truffle butter, and mushrooms sitting on

say, scooping a generous portion onto three plates for

up a fork, the atmosphere between us thick

pasta touches my tongue, I know something is wrong.

palate to wince in response. The black truffle butter, rather than enhancing the dish as

instead overpowering the dish

I ch ug a glass

this is bad. This is

as he puts his

anything, but the slight grimace on his

I mutter, already dumping the disgusting dish

they could overpower a dish so

John suggests, surprisingly lighthearted despite the

of

get to work. We start by making adjustments to

ratios of

the result is somehow even worse than the first attempt. The three of us almost spit