Death by Lasagne

Even before he closed from work, Uche was already dreaming about his dinner. He had been promising himself a treat for a while now and he was cashing in his chips tonight. Minutes before six p.m, he tore off a piece of sticky notes and set about writing a list. He intended to compete with Garfield (The Lasagne Cat), so he made his list – tomato paste, fresh tomatoes, spring onions, minced meat, garlic, mozzarella cheese, lasagne noodles, mushrooms, spices.
Just looking at his list made my mouth water and I could already see the food on the plate. I sniffed and he laughed and told me to come along; I did not like rowdy markets so I was happy we were heading to the supermarket closest to his house. I picked a basket and we dropped in our purchases. I added red wine – if a guy was cooking for me, I might as well enjoy it, besides, I enjoyed red wines especially because it complemented meat and pasta dishes. And Uche was a good cook for I had tasted his food before in the past. We got to the check-out counter and we split the bill in half. It was a short walk to his house and so we enjoyed the stroll in the setting evening sun. He opened his door and I set to work, I laid everything out on his counter top while he hurried to undress and I pulled off my jacket and hung it from an angle on the kitchen door. Guys were naturally faster than women especially when it came to clothing and he was back before I could shout out to him. He was giving instructions and I was to chop the vegetables and I decided to help by switching on my ipad and browsing Google for a simple recipe (not that I did not trust Uche’s recipe) but he had admitted to making Lasagne just once. I was looking at my screen out of the corner of my eyes and chopping spring onions when I felt a hot sharp pain and I yelped, dropping the knife. Uche came rushing and guided me to the tap where he ran water over my cut first and went to get some astringent leaving me there briefly. It was not quite deep but it was bleeding and so he wrapped gauze on my finger. I valiantly set to work again since I could not leave him to do all the work alone.
Uche set about making the sauce and put me to work grating the cheese and slipped a disc into the stereo to liven up our work. We sang along companionably and then he got some sauce in his eyes. I guided him to the tap this time and ran water into his eyes till it cleared. Okay, we were still on the way to getting Lasagne ready for two. We got to the chorus of Darey’s ‘Not the girl’ when the grater scrapped my knuckles raw. This time around, Uche turned off the gas cooker and got out two stem glasses from the cupboard overhead and I left the cheese half grater on the counter top. I got the wine from the fridge and we just headed to the living room without speaking and he poured the wine. I switched on the telly and surfed till I got E! while he struggled with the cork on the bottle. He handed me a glass and raised it to me.
“To us, death by Lasagne!”
“Death by Lasagne!” I intoned and we laughed heartily till tears streamed from my eyes.


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