Monday. I had chicken thawed, I had a scrap of bacon, I had a bag of spinach getting sadder by the hour, I had angel hair in the pantry. I put all four of them in one pan and called it dinner. My husband said this is the best kind of math and ate two bowls. Some dinners don’t want to be a recipe. They want to be whatever is in the fridge, together, over noodles.
A Monday angel hair
