This is the last photo.
The rest of the photos show how I got from a few elements to this.
The egg yolk, not the egg white. This time. I didn't want that much egg.
The Atlas pasta machine that rolled out the noodles also has a cutter for fettuccine but that is too narrow for the pasta tonight.
For you see, my pasta is warmer than the warmest sunshine, softer than a sigh. My pasta's deeper than the deepest ocean, wider than the sky. My pasta's brighter than the brightest star that shines every night above. And there is nothing in this world that is better that I know of.
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